


Secrets and Truths

by LadyWinterlight, NerdyKat



Series: Hermione Granger and the Child Protection Movement [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-03-30 12:39:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 79,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13951734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyWinterlight/pseuds/LadyWinterlight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NerdyKat/pseuds/NerdyKat
Summary: Following immediately from "Muggle Management," this story explores how "Chamber of Secrets" changes because of Hermione's actions in the first story.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> This whole thing started from a "what if" conversation between NerdyKat and LadyWinterlight. Because one person picking up on one thing and subsequently changes everything. As mentioned in the first story, we both have strong feelings and opinions on child abuse, and feel that the original story treats it far too casually.
> 
> That said, Kat and I are kind of scary when we're really involved in a subject and working together. This story is finished, and so will post twice a week. And we wrote the whole thing in about two weeks. We're either crazy or amazing, and we'll leave it to you readers to decide which!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, no copyright infringement is intended. Harry Potter and all canon characters belong to JK Rowling.

Thank you to everyone who voted for us in the 2018 Marauder Medals!

* * *

 

 

For the first week the Grangers, plus Harry Potter, were home for the summer, everyone walked very carefully. Jean and George - George in particular - always made sure to make noise while moving around the house so as not to startle Harry with their sudden presence. Hermione made sure to show Harry the house thoroughly, so he would know where everything was and what places they weren’t supposed to be in without an adult.

Harry startled everyone in the household that first morning. He’d gotten up earlier than anyone else in the house and was cooking breakfast, tea made and ready, by the time Jean made her way down to the kitchen. “Harry?” she asked in a shocked voice.

“Huh? Oh, um. Breakfast is almost ready, Jean,” Harry replied.

“I… you… you didn’t have to cook breakfast, sweetie,” Jean said gently.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

Jean studied the implements and smells coming from the stove and she smiled a little. “You’re making Hermione’s favorite, aren’t you?” Harry blushed and nodded. “You really didn’t have to do that. She’s quite happy to have you here, you know.”

“I know. This is just… it’s… it’s what I’m used to.”

“It’s okay, Harry. You haven’t done anything wrong,” Jean soothed. “I’m sure Hermione will be thrilled.” She studied Harry as he paid attention to his cooking, watching the amount of sheer skill the boy had. Skill that at eleven, he shouldn’t have had. Hermione certainly didn’t.

Growing uncomfortable under Jean’s assessing stare, Harry mumbled, “I like cooking. And I was up anyway.”

“It’s fine, sweetheart,” Jean managed after a brief pause. “You kids making breakfast for the family is certainly okay, especially for special occasions. But, you know, I like to cook too. So I just want you to know that we don’t _expect_ you to cook for us. But if you want to, or if you want to help me when I cook, you can just ask. Okay?” She stepped in to take over, now that she was present.

“Okay,” Harry agreed in a low voice. He took a step back, giving Jean access to the frying pan and wondering if he’d done something wrong. She didn’t seem angry, but that didn’t always mean anything.

For a moment, Harry didn’t know what to do with himself. Just when he was trying to figure out what chore he could do instead, Jean interrupted his thoughts. “Do you like to read, Harry?” she asked as she worked.

Harry studied the woman pensively. Hermione loved to read, but the Dursleys acted like Harry reading would get them all killed. “It’s okay,” Harry landed on.

“What’s your favorite story?” Now that definitely _was_ condemned by his Aunt and Uncle. Harry reading anything remotely fantastical had always made Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon really angry. He remembered one time when Dudley had planted one of his story books that he never read into Harry’s cupboard. Uncle Vernon had ended up hitting Harry so hard with the belt, Harry was dealing with the welts on his back for weeks. “I liked _James and the Giant Peach_ ,” Harry said as nonchalantly as possible. There were others. _Sadako and the Thousand Paper Cranes_ ; _Superfudge_ ; _The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe_ , which Hermione had loaned him; _The Hobbit_ , and then _The Lord of the Rings_. All read within the confines of his cupboard or in the school library. He wasn’t trapped, when he was reading.

He firmly ignored the sympathetic look Jean was giving him. “Harry, you know if you ever want to talk…”

Harry quickly shook his head. “No, thank you. I’d rather just… just forget about it.”

“Forgetting it isn’t always healthy, and sometimes… sometimes you can’t.” From the look on her face, she was clearly speaking from experience, but Harry didn’t pry.

“I’ll… think about it,” he said instead, though he knew it was unlikely he would ever want to talk about it. He still wasn’t entirely convinced that he wasn’t going to wake up in the next moment and he’d be forced back to the Dursleys.

He was saved from further discussion by Hermione bouncing into the room, followed at a more sedate pace by her father. “Morning, everyone!” Hermione chirped. She transferred the tea set to the table. “Breakfast smells great, Mum!”

“Harry actually did most of the work, honey. You should thank him,” Jean said. She shot a look at her husband, and he nodded rather than commenting on it.

“Thank you, Harry,” Hermione said with a smile. She set about fixing two cups of tea, one for herself and one for Harry; she knew exactly how he preferred it in the morning.

“Yes, thank you Harry,” George said. He took a seat at the table as Jean brought over the serving dishes of food.

Harry blushed, not used to the effusive gratitude. “You’re welcome,” he murmured, looking into his teacup instead of at anyone else.

“Wow, Harry,” Hermione said easily. “I wish I could cook.”

“You mean there _is_ something you can’t do?” Harry joked.

Hermione went pink. “Oh, there are many things she can’t do,” George teased. “But that doesn’t stop her from working at it.”

“How Hufflepuff of you,” Harry chortled.

“Well she qualified for all four Houses, you know,” George shot back.

Harry’s eyes went wide as he looked at Hermione. “Really?” _Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, my goodness, yes -- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting.... So where shall I put you?_ The Sorting Hat’s words to him echoed in his mind.

“Yeah,” Hermione said, glancing up at Harry. “It said I had the right qualities for any house, but it was worried that the Slytherins might hate me for my blood. I asked to be in Gryffindor, because that was my favorite one to read about in _Hogwarts: A History._ ”

“I guess that makes two of us, then,” Harry told her with a small grin. “I’m glad we wound up in the same House, though.”

“Me too, Harry,” Hermione said, squeezing his hand under the table.

“I wonder what House I’d be in,” George asked idly.

“What’s the House for husbands who refuse to grow up?” Jean asked. “I’d want to be in Ravenclaw, from Hermione’s description. I bet they have a library in their common room.”

“We don’t know. We’ve never been in another House’s common room,” Hermione explained. “It’s possible, but the main Library is huge anyway.”

“Yeah, Hermione is going to rip the seams of her bag one of these days, hauling all those books back up to Gryffindor Tower,” Harry grinned at her.

“I’m not surprised,” Jean said. “I did that myself a couple of times when I was at Uni.”

“We’ll just have to buy you an extra when we go supplies shopping before school again,” George added with a grin of his own.

After everyone had finished breakfast, Jean said, “I’m going to make more tea. Then I think we should all gather in the living room. We have an overdue discussion, don’t we?”

“Yes, Mum,” Hermione said in a quiet voice. Harry looked both confused and alarmed, but he allowed Hermione to take his hand and lead him into the living room. They sat side by side on the loveseat, waiting for her parents to join them.

“Now, we’ve heard bits and pieces of stories of your adventures over the last year, but I think it’s time to hear the entire thing,” George said, shifting in his armchair to get comfortable. “Starting with Halloween. Something about a Troll?”

Hermione and Harry both described in detail the various adventures and misadventures they’d had over the past year, Hermione’s parents asking all kinds of questions. Harry was having a hard time getting a read on their emotions.

Hermione finished the tale with telling her parents about Quirrell, Voldemort, and Harry nearly being killed by going after him.

Jean and George were silent for a long time. Jean finally looked at Harry, looking… sad, to Harry’s surprise. “Harry, I get the feeling I’m going to say this a lot over the next few years, but you need to realize that your life isn't worthless. You shouldn’t feel pressured to risk it. This Voldemort is _not_ your responsibility.”

Harry wasn’t sure how to respond. He’d been raised being told he was worthless. Aunt Petunia told him so regularly. In fact, he didn’t think anyone had ever told him he was worth something. Except maybe Hermione; she’d called him her best friend. But even so, that didn’t mean he was worthwhile except to her.

“We know that you were probably always told otherwise,” George said gently. “But I assure you they were lying.”

“They’re right, Harry,” Hermione said in the softest voice Harry had ever heard from her. “I didn’t follow you through the trapdoor because I owed you, or even because I thought you couldn’t do it yourself. You could, if you had to. I went because I wanted to help. I hoped that two - or three - heads would be better than one, and that we’d all be safer because we went _together_. I would never want to lose you, Harry.”

Harry squeezed Hermione’s hand; he didn’t know what to say to her, either, but he let her lean against his side. It felt… good… warm and comfortable. Hermione had always been affectionate, but it had never felt this… personal, before.

“As for your reckless actions, both with the stone and in the forest,” Jean continued. “I’m willing to chalk it up to not knowing you had a family who gives a damn what you do, but now you’re with us. Do not do such foolish things again. Hermione is grounded for two weeks because of she was out past curfew. With Hermione, that means she’s not allowed to read any books that aren’t specifically for homework and she has to stay out of the house most of the day. Homework will be done after dinner, so we can keep an eye on the books in use. Do you think it would be fair for you to join her punishment, Harry?”

Harry nodded slowly. “It was my fault she was out…”

“No, Harry,” Hermione shook her head. “I chose to go with you. Just like I always have. It was my choice, and I accept responsibility for my own actions.”

“Would it be the same for both of us? No books, and staying outside?”

“Yes,” George confirmed. “You can go to the park down the street, out to the gardens, they have lots of activities every summer there. Plays, a circus, and the pool offers swimming lessons if you’re interested.”

“I’ve never been in a pool before,” Harry admitted.

“I think you’ll like it, Harry,” Hermione said. “If you don’t want to take the lessons, I can teach you to swim.”

“Our Hermione has been swimming for as long as she can walk. It’s one of the few ways to tempt her away from her books,” Jean commented fondly.

“But… but that sounds like _fun,_ ” Harry said. “Not like a punishment at all! I mean, you’re not making us miss dinner or locking us in our rooms or--” Harry cut himself off before he could say too much. And even then, he was afraid it was already too late. The Grangers were looking at him with expressions of sorrow.

“No, Harry,” George said gently. He got out of his chair slowly, projecting every movement, until he was kneeling on the floor in front of the two kids. He reached out his hands and Harry followed Hermione’s example by placing his own hand in one. George just cupped his hand very gently. “We will never deprive you of food, Harry. We will never take away the things you need to be healthy and strong. We won’t hurt you or let others hurt you. If you do something wrong, we will decide on consequences, but those consequences will never be to harm you physically. We might take away telephone and mail privileges. We might take away your recreational reading.”

“We might send you outside to play, or we might banish you from the kitchen for a few days,” Jean added.

“My parents don’t hit, Harry,” Hermione whispered. “I’ve never been spanked or even slapped.”

“We don’t believe in such things,” George confirmed. “You’re young, and you will make mistakes and poor choices sometimes. When you do, we want to make sure you learn from it. Nothing more.”

Jean noticed that Harry was looking overwhelmed, his green eyes shining with tears he was holding back by willpower alone. She didn’t think he could take in any more information, so she shook her head slightly. “Very well, decision made. Grounded for two weeks, both of you. Now go wash up, clean your teeth, and scoot outside, please. See your father to get your lunch money before you go.”

When Harry made no move, George used the hand in his to tug the boy gently to his feet. Hermione took over after that, dragging Harry up the stairs and out of sight.

“Come on, Harry. Tooth brushes, hair brushes, socks and shoes. And then we’ll go to the park,” Hermione said in a comforting tone. “You’ll get used to us. I promise.”

Harry was quiet while they took turns in the bathroom, found socks and shoes and went back downstairs. Hermione collected their lunch money and a house key from her father, which she slipped into her pocket. Then she pulled Harry out of the house with her and down the street towards the park.

“Is this really how you grew up, Hermione?” Harry asked, finding his voice at last.

Hermione nodded. “Yes. They’re good parents, Harry, and you’ll learn a lot from them, I think. I can’t imagine a safer place than at home with my parents. I hope you’ll feel that way too eventually.”

Harry stopped walking; Hermione turned back when the tug on her arm told her he wasn’t following anymore. In a rush, Harry pulled Hermione close and crushed her in a tight hug. “You did this… for me? You wanted this? I… I can’t even...”

Hermione hugged Harry close and just held him until he tried to pull away. “I always wanted a little brother, you know,” she teased him gently to lighten the mood.

“I’m sure you would have been very entertaining growing up,” Harry said, trying to shake his overwhelming emotions. “Instead…”

“Pft,” Hermione snorted. “I bet you’d have been getting me into all kinds of trouble when we were little.” Her grin took the bite out of her words and her bossy tone.

Harry couldn’t help but think about Dudley and all the accidental magic Harry did growing up just to survive. “What kinds of accidental magic did you do as a kid?” he asked faintly.

“Mum said I started with bringing things to bed with me. Toys, books, biscuits. Stuff I shouldn’t have been able to reach, and they had no idea how I was doing it,” Hermione mused. “I think I blew up a television once, though, having a temper tantrum. Daddy wanted to watch football, and I wanted to watch _Alice in Wonderland_. Why do you ask?”

“I… most of my accidental magic happened when my cousin and his friends were after me,” Harry said quietly. “They called it ‘Harry Hunting’. No one’s ever… no one’s ever cared about _me_ before. Just Harry. Not the famous Harry Potter, who can’t even remember the event that he’s famous for. Who’d trade all the fame he has just for an hour with his parents…”

“Well, you’ve got the three of us now,” Hermione said, forcing a smile. “I know we can’t be James and Lily Potter. But even if you don’t have the name, you’re a Granger now. Now let’s go, last one to the swings is a rotten egg!”

The park turned out to be a lot bigger than Harry was imagining. There was a botanical garden, a petting zoo, a huge lawn where Hermione said the circus would set up in late summer. The pool was on the other side of the lawn. Near the park, there was a small cafe where patrons could get burgers and hot dogs and ice cream. It seemed like a slice of heaven.

Harry beat Hermione to the swings, but not by much. Hermione was laughing, starting to pump. Harry followed. Swinging was as close to flying that he could get before he learned he was magic. And living with the Grangers, in a Muggle neighborhood, he wouldn’t likely get to bring out his broom all summer. Unless they got to visit the Weasleys, maybe.

They spent the day at the park, playing around and deciding what they would do for the rest of the week. They had lunch at the little cafe, and Harry was briefly startled by Hermione telling him to get whatever he wanted. She even had money left over afterwards. Though he’d gotten used to being well fed at Hogwarts, it was still strange to him to feel full after a meal when not at school. He thought back to the boa constrictor he’d accidentally freed when Dudley hurt him by shoving him out of the way. He hadn’t eaten a single meal at home for months after that event. The only thing that saved him was the free lunch Vernon and Petunia had manipulated the school into giving him.

It was a strange thought that ‘no meals’ wasn’t a punishment at the Grangers, but it was definitely something Harry was willing to get used to. They walked back to the house about 4pm, a bit grass-stained and tired, but in the best possible way. After weeks of being indoors studying, then three days recovering from keeping Voldemort from the stone, it was good to be outside.

“You looked worried over breakfast this morning. Was there a problem before I came down?” Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head. “I just… I wondered for a bit if I had done something wrong, starting breakfast. Your Mum didn’t seem mad, but…”

“No, Harry, you’ll know if you’re in trouble for something.” She paused. “You know, a lot of kids wouldn’t feel like this was punishment,” Hermione commented lightly as they walked home. “It does feel good to be outside, but sometimes I need that push. I need a reason to put down my books and get out of my own head. So even when I’m being punished, I always know my parents mean it for my own good. Does that make any sense?”

“It does. I… I’m not used to it, but it does. I just… it feels like a dream.” Harry mused. Hermione nodded. He was as social as he could be during supper, then he and Hermione spent some time on homework. Afterwards, Hermione read for fun and Harry found himself drifting off to sleep. “I think I’m going to go to bed,” he said.

Three days passed that way. Harry would get up, make breakfast before Jean got up, they’d all eat as a family, Harry and Hermione would go to the park until dinner, they’d do homework, and go to bed.

Then one night, he heard a banging that woke him up from his sleep. “BOY! WHY ISN’T BREAKFAST READY!” Harry tossed in his bed, confused by the shout from his Aunt. “BOY, GET OUT THIS INSTANT!” Then there was silence. Utter, oppressive silence. He sat up, realizing he was… back in his cupboard.

“Harry,” came a new voice, one that didn’t belong. “Harry, it’s just a dream.”

“IF YOU LIKE THAT CUPBOARD SO MUCH, YOU CAN STAY THERE!” his Aunt shrieked.

“Harry, wake up! Wake up!”

Suddenly Harry’s eyes shot open. He was back in the guest bedroom at the Grangers. His room, now. Unable to control himself, he let out a strangled sob. Hermione grasped his hand tightly, providing him an anchor.

As the tension eased from Harry’s body, Hermione started to chew her lip. “Can I ask… I mean… what were you dreaming about?” she asked softly. “I mean, you were crying, that’s why I came in here…”

“I was back in my cupboard,” Harry said, still a little out of it.

Hermione stilled. “Harry, what do you mean _your_ cupboard?”

Harry looked up at her, blinking owlishly. He was still processing his dream so he said, “My cupboard… where I slept until my Hogwarts letter came… Mr. H Potter, The Cupboard Under The Stairs...”

Hermione gasped, eyes going wide, unable to stop herself from covering her mouth in absolute horror. “You… I… Harry, that’s… that’s _awful_. You mean they didn’t even give you a bedroom?” Hermione bit her lip, cutting off the flood of questions for fear they would drown out any answers Harry might give her.

Harry shrugged. “They didn’t want to mess up the guest bedroom, and Dudley needed the fourth bedroom for all his toys and stuff. It wasn’t half bad, as long as the spiders didn’t bite you too bad.”

“They locked you in there, didn’t they?” she asked in a very soft voice.

“Sometimes,” Harry answered, his tone just as low. “Sometimes… they’d have guests. And I was supposed to be really quiet and pretend I wasn’t there… that I didn’t exist...”

Hermione flung herself down, laying next to Harry on top of the covers. “You exist! You do!” she insisted. “If I have to remind you every night before bed, I will. You’re important, Harry Potter. Not because you’re the ‘boy who lived’ but because you’re my friend. My brother, if you want to be.”

“I’ve always wanted a big sister,” Harry replied softly, echoing the sentiment Hermione had expressed days before.

“Well, now you’ve got one.” Hermione smiled. “Do you want me to stay until you fall back asleep?”

“Please?”

Hermione slipped under the top cover, leaving the sheet between them - though they both had nightclothes on as well. She held Harry’s hand in hers and hummed softly to help him relax. She watched him as he began to settle and smiled a little to herself. She truly meant to go back to her own room after he was asleep; unfortunately for her, she fell asleep before she could make herself get up.

“Hermione?” This time it was Harry’s voice, waking her. She blinked her eyes open and saw the first glimmer of light coming in the windows. It was early; really early.

“Harry? Oh, sorry. I must have fallen asleep.”

“You really did come see me after my nightmare,” he breathed, sounding surprised. “It wasn’t just another dream.”

“No, little brother, it wasn’t another dream. I promise. So why are we awake at,” she squinted at the clock on the nightstand, “half five in the morning?”

Harry shrugged. “It’s when I usually get up to start breakfast.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, let me go get dressed and I’ll keep you company,” Hermione offered. “Though Harry… I really think you should tell someone about your nightmares.” She saw him tense and sighed. “You don’t have to, and I won’t make you. But… Mum and Dad can’t help unless they know something’s wrong. Think about it, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” he agreed quietly.

They made scones that morning, and didn’t talk much other than Harry giving Hermione instructions to follow when she asked to help. Harry didn’t know how to even broach the topic that his bedroom was the cupboard under the stairs, let alone how he was dreaming of being back there. He was used to explosive tempers and any explanation he had - or lack thereof - would be ignored. Then it occurred to him that maybe Hermione could help.

“Hermione, do you think… I mean I hate to ask, but could you…” Harry stammered.

Hermione gave him a kind smile. “I’d be happy to help you tell Mum and Dad,” she said. “Oh Harry, you’ll see. This is a good thing. They’ll know what to do. I know you might not trust them, but you trust me, right?”

Harry was a bit stunned. That was an excellent way to think about it. He didn’t trust adults… but he could trust Hermione and Ron. “Yeah, of course,” he said, nodding.

Jean came down shortly after that and started getting ready for work. “There’s a new swim class starting today, Harry, you should sign up,” she said encouragingly. “It’s safer if you know how to swim.”

“Okay,” Harry agreed, pulling the blueberry scones out of the oven. They were his own recipe. Around nine, he started messing with a few of Aunt Petunia’s recipes to make them better. The Dursleys never noticed, or at least never said anything, but Harry was rather proud of his precision work.

“I didn’t realize we had any blueberry scone mix,” George said, coming in. “Morning family.”

“Morning Dad,” Hermione said, putting the clotted cream on the table.

“Morning,” Harry echoed. “And I didn’t realize you had scone mixes. You just had blueberries in the freezer and it’s a really simple recipe…”

“You can bake from scratch?” Jean asked curiously. “You spoil us Harry.”

Harry blushed at the compliment and turned off the oven. “Hermione helped,” he murmured.

Breakfast was a fairly quiet affair, Hermione sneaking glances between Harry and her parents every so often as Harry grew increasingly torn about telling Hermione’s parents about his cupboard.

“Mum, Dad…” Hermione began slowly, and immediately had her parents’ attention. “I… we think you should know that Harry is having nightmares. I woke up when I heard him last night, and I stayed with him so he could sleep again. His… the Dursleys… well, they made him sleep in a cupboard. Under the stairs. He didn’t have a room; their house’s fourth bedroom was for Dudley’s toys.”

Jean listened, with wide eyes, but said nothing while Hermione spoke. George was better at masking his emotion, but Hermione could see a bleak expression in his eyes.

“Is this true, Harry?” George asked, looking for confirmation. Harry couldn’t look up from his plate but nodded.

Hermione looked at Harry, and tugged his hand so he’d look back at her. She asked a question with her eyes, and he hesitated but then nodded permission. Hermione looked back at her parents then. “Harry needs time to adjust; I’m sure you knew that already. But… he doesn’t know how to trust grown-ups. He trusts me, so when I said I thought you should know… he agreed that we should tell you. But…”

“But he’s scared, and it’s okay to be scared,” Jean said, addressing them both. “Facing your fears is difficult, but it’s healthy. I’m proud of you both for telling us.”

George nodded his agreement, smiling gently at both kids. “Harry, I’m very glad to hear that you trust Hermione enough to let her help you with this. I hope that you can continue to talk to her about things that are bothering you, and trust her judgement when she thinks it’s something we should know.”

“We know the Dursleys abused you, Harry,” Jean told him gently. “We know that they didn’t want you, and that you were miserable living there. How could you not be? That’s why we wanted to bring you here. We also think, honestly, that you probably need more help than we can give you.”

“But…” Harry began to protest, but Hermione squeezed his hand gently. Her mother wasn’t finished.

“We’ve been looking into several different doctors who specialize in helping abused children to recover,” Jean explained. “We won’t force you to go, but we think it would be a good idea. And I think they would be willing to let Hermione help you with the first few visits, if that would make you more comfortable.”

“Of course I’ll go with you, Harry, if you want me to,” Hermione offered immediately. “You’re my little brother. I’ll do anything I can to help you if you need me.”

Harry thought hard, wishing more than anything he hadn’t been given to the Dursleys. Isn’t this what he wanted? Parents, a family? Wasn’t this some version of what he saw in the Mirror of Erised? Was he really willing to give that up just because of a little work, as unpleasant as it may be? He realized he needed to answer. “I… I’m not crazy.”

“Oh no, sweetie. We’re not saying that. Sometimes it just helps to talk things out with a person who isn’t involved,” Jean reassured him.

“And these doctors are trained to help you learn how to cope with the problems you have, so they stop giving you nightmares,” George added. “You’re young, Harry, and no one expects you to be able to deal with the burdens laid on your shoulders alone. What we want is to provide you with the help you need so in the future, you can handle problems in a healthy way.”

“I know you’re brave, Harry,” Hermione whispered. “Do you think you can face this, too, if I’m by your side?”

“I…” Harry hesitated, but what they were saying made a kind of sense to him. Being ‘the boy who lived’ was difficult enough, and he didn’t know what life in the Wizarding World might throw at him next. “I can try. If Hermione can help.”

“Good. That’s all we can ask of you,” Jean soothed. “Do you two want to look at the information on the doctors and pick one for yourselves?”

Unsure if there was a right answer or if he was supposed to start trying to trust them, Harry didn’t answer right away. Instead, he glanced at Hermione for suggestions.

“Why don’t we take a look, and if we can’t decide then we’ll trust Mum and Dad to make the best decision for us?” she offered.

“That… makes sense.”

“Excellent,” George beamed. “So, we’ll get the folders for you while you get ready to go. You can take them to the park with you and find a place to be comfortable while you read what we have. Lunch money and your key will be on the hall table.”

“Okay, Dad,” Hermione said. Seeing that Harry was also done with breakfast, she got up and waited for him to join her at the door before heading upstairs.

Jean wilted back into her chair for a moment, mixed emotions crossing her face rapidly.

George sighed. He didn’t think it was this bad. Harry seemed so… well adjusted. “Remind me again why these people get to get off scot-free? They made him sleep in the damn cupboard? And you saw Vernon. I can’t help but imagine…” Imagined images floated through his head of Vernon beating a much smaller and younger Harry, of Petunia ordering him to do endless chores and any mistake made would be punishable by a loss of the privilege of eating. How had the Dursleys treated Harry like their slave and no one noticed?

“I know,” Jean said, tears slipping down her cheeks now that the kids had left the room. “We should be careful about Harry’s chores. And I’d like to wean him off feeling compelled to make breakfast for us every morning. He needs his sleep, especially if he’s having nightmares.” They’d already talked about how, until further notice if Harry messed up all they’d really do is talk to him or include him in the kind of punishments Hermione received if they were both in trouble. To prove to him that they would never, ever hit him.

“I wonder if self-defense classes might help. He’s obviously learning magic up at the school, but it can’t hurt to know how to throw a punch… especially since they’re not supposed to use magic while they’re here at home.” George was looking pensive.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to let him and Hermione remain… attached at the hip so much?” Jean asked thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t want her to be under too much pressure being a crutch for him, either. Even if we both know she’d do it willingly and without complaint.”

“Maybe we should see what the therapist has to say about that,” George replied. “I think right now, he needs someone he trusts around him. And even though I think he really does want to be part of our family, he doesn’t really trust us yet.”

“The only thing that’s going to fix that is hard work and time. Regardless, we should get going or else we’re going to be late for work,” Jean said. “Let’s keep self-defense classes on the back burner for now. It might make for a good punishment.”

“You could be right about that. We can talk about it more over lunch,” George agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, my goodness, yes -- and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting.... So where shall I put you?" quoted directly from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, ch. 7.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer vacation and back to school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has commented or shared our story so far. We're super happy to hear from all of you! So far this AU has been very well received, and we hope that continues.
> 
> From NerdyKat:
> 
> WOW! I've loved all your comments so far. Thank you for all of your support of this story. Amazingly, _Secrets and Truths_ was completed in about three weeks, so unfortunately, any of your suggestions about what should happen next can't be considered. However, that's all the more reason why YOU should write your version of what should happen.

The Grangers had done a thorough investigation, including feedback and testimonies from both patients and colleagues in the medical field. Harry and Hermione together chose the therapist they thought they would work most easily with and the first set of appointments were made.

If the therapist was startled to have two children sitting in her office instead of one, she didn’t show it. Though she gently encouraged Harry to speak for himself, she didn’t argue when Harry asked Hermione to explain when he couldn’t find the words or make himself speak.

“It’s not something I’m used to being allowed to talk about,” Harry explained. “People always believed my Aunt’s and Uncle’s explainations anytime a bruise showed up or I’d break something. They were the adults, and if I talked about what really happened, they’d say I was making up stories, then punish me for it.”

Soon, Harry and Hermione were going to therapy three times a week. As the weeks passed, Hermione spoke less and less as Harry started to gain confidence that there were people listening to him, and by law, as the Dursleys had terminated their guardianship rights, it was a legal impossibility for Harry to be sent back there. 

The therapist did engage Hermione at times, too, in order to give Harry a break. She noticed that Hermione also tended to put too much pressure on herself and was incredibly mature for her age; sometimes parents with high expectations of a bright child could cause that unintentionally. Those breaks for Harry developed into giving Hermione her own boost of self-confidence and the understanding that there were some things she also didn’t need to be responsible for.

The other thing occurring in the Granger household was preparing for their trip to Venice. For one thing, Harry needed a passport, which was obtained and rush-delivered. He also needed clothes that actually fit him, which were obtained one incredibly boring afternoon when Jean took him shopping. The one bright spot was that Harry was allowed to pick out new curtains for his bedroom, and to choose what kind of desk he wanted for times when he wanted to write letters or work on his homework alone. Though the shopping part was boring, it helped make him feel like it was  _ his _ room, and not just a guest room he was using.

Both he and Hermione got check-ups at the doctor's. They were then taken to the Grangers’ dental practice, where Harry got his first ever dental exam. Harry was taken to the optometrist who prescribed him new glasses. At the store, Jean insisted Harry pick out new frames.

“Those frames were popular in about the 40s, Harry. You deserve something better.”

Jean did that a lot, told Harry he deserved better than what he had. It was why he had clothes that fit, new shoes that weren’t cast-offs from Dudley, books to read of his own choosing, a book bag that didn’t have holes and worn straps, and money of his own.

Harry was shocked that the Grangers insisted on giving him an allowance for the chores he did. Hermione also got one, and that was in addition to the money George left them for lunch every day when they were banned from the house. It boggled Harry’s mind, but since Hermione just seemed to accept it Harry tried not to argue.

“Think of it this way,” Jean said with a small smile. “We’re going on holiday in a few more weeks. This way you can have your own money to buy souvenirs from the places we visit. If there are things George and I don’t think you need, you can use your own money for them.”

The other surprise, to Harry, was being given his first-ever birthday party by the Grangers. It was small, just the four of them, but between the cake made just for him, his choice of what they had for dinner, and gifts he certainly wasn’t expecting, Harry was happier than he could ever remember being. In that moment, Harry realized that this was what home was supposed to feel like. 

Hermione’s excitement over their trip to Venice infected Harry as well. The two poured over books, both muggle and magical, about things to see and do in the famous city. Both of them finished their summer homework and Hermione even commented that it was some of Harry’s best work. He admitted to Hermione that he wasn’t allowed to perform better than Dudley so he had learned at an early age to goof off until the last minute so his homework made it look as if he wasn’t that good at school. 

“Well, Ron certainly didn’t help you with that particular habit,” Hermione said acerbically. But then she grinned. “You won’t have that problem here. Mum and Dad want you to do your best. And I do too.”

Venice was… rather incredible. There were whole buildings that muggles couldn’t see unless they were pointed out to them. There was a museum on the History of Italian Magic, the apparition license office, the Museum of Italian Magical Art, and many, many eateries and restaurants. Harry was rather fascinated by the tension between magical and non-magical people in Italy, given that the Vatican was staunchly against magic of any form, even if it was real and not based upon a religion.

The Grangers also indulgently allowed them to spend over an hour chatting with the people in the magical portraits. Hermione had to translate for Harry, which let her parents in on most of the conversations as well. Several of the portraits lacked the anti-muggle attitude they were so used to from the purebloods and portraits at Hogwarts, though. It was interesting to them both.

Harry spent most of the trip in culture shock. Before his Hogwarts letter came, he’d never been outside of Surrey, not even to London. Any time the Dursleys went anywhere, Harry was left with Mrs. Figg. It was rather fascinating to see things from a different perspective. For one thing, his celebrity status was less of a big deal in other countries. For another, the Grangers were perfectly happy to let Harry run around with Hermione in an excited tizzy; Harry got to experience being a child on vacation for the first time ever.

Towards the end of their holiday, they went to the Italian equivalent of Diagon Alley. Hermione suggested checking the Apothecary and perhaps some other stores, as certain potions ingredients might be more readily available and cost less in Italy than in England. Thankfully, Gringotts Gold was good everywhere. 

Harry and Hermione browsed the stores as Hermione’s parents looked on. They weren’t far away, because Harry heard someone say, “Are they yours?”

“Yes,” George said, prickling. “Is there a problem?”

“No problem. Children aren’t allowed to be unattended in here as they’re apt to make a mess.” The stranger sounded disapproving. Harry glanced over and spotted a tall man with long, light brown hair and blue eyes. “Surprisingly, your children are very considerate. You seem to have taught them well.”

“Thank you,” Jean said stiffly, clearly disliking the man. 

Harry approached cautiously, standing in Jean’s view and waiting to be noticed.

“What is it, Harry?” Jean asked in a gentler tone.

“They have a couple of things Hermione says are on our supply list, Jean,” Harry ventured. “She thinks we should get them here.”

“Show me,” Jean said, and Harry obediently led her away.

The strange man raised an eyebrow at George. “Your children call you by name?”

Harry could practically hear George tense up as Hermione was describing to Jean what they needed. “Harry only came to us recently. He was previously staying with relatives who… well, let’s just say they were extremely reluctant to take him in, in the first place, and apparently never hesitated to let Harry know that. They signed away custody to us early this year.” 

“Indeed,” the strange man said. “You are generous to take in a second child, then.” He almost sounded impressed.

“We always wanted a son, and our daughter was thrilled with the idea of her best friend becoming part of our family. It will just take us all some time to adjust.” This time Harry heard pride in George’s voice, and it made him smile to himself where no one could see. Then Hermione tugged on his arm, and Harry missed the rest of the conversation between the two men.

After two weeks abroad, despite their enjoyment, it was good to get back to the Grangers’. With the start of school approaching, they made plans to go to Diagon Alley for the rest of their supplies, and meet up with the Weasleys, whom Harry and Hermione had been corresponding with separately all summer. Jean and George advised them that it might be wise to keep Harry’s change in location a secret from everyone at Hogwarts to keep the family safer.

With that in mind, the Grangers also bought a household owl, a beautiful male with golden feathers that Harry and Hermione immediately named Aslan. Not only would Aslan make writing to the children during the year easier, but it also meant Hermione’s letters from home were not delivered by Hedwig who, though gorgeous, was rather conspicuous. Harry never minded when Hermione asked to borrow his owl for her post, but what the Grangers said made sense and so he went along with it.

It was really good to see the Weasleys though. Ginny was still fangirling over him, though she had now diverted to staring at him when he wasn’t looking. Hermione stepped forward, introducing her parents to the Weasleys politely.

“It’s nice to meet you, George,” Arthur said, shaking hands with the man.

The twins blinked at the name, and then grinned.

“Blimey! It’s George and George. However shall we keep ourselves straight?” Fred exclaimed.

“Well, brother, we’re really Gred and Forge, after all!” George chimed in. “We have the sweaters to prove it!”

Harry laughed. “Sounds just like you two..”

“See?” Forge replied with a grin. “Easier already! Nice to meet you, Mr. Granger.”

After introductions were made and the Grangers exchanged their pounds into galleons at Gringott’s, refusing to let Harry retrieve any of his inheritance for school supplies though they did allow the kids to exchange part of their allowance that they’d saved, they spotted the crowd outside of Flourish and Blotts. Jean saw the look on Harry and Hermione’s faces as she saw the disappointment in their eyes. Now that Harry was finally free to be himself, he was turning into quite the bookworm. “How about I go in and get your school books, and we can come back during the week to get the books you’re really interested in,” she suggested. 

Both of them reluctantly agreed. “Come on, then,” George said. “I’ll take you to Madame Malkin’s to be fitted for new school robes and uniforms. You’ve both grown over the summer.”

After books and robes, Hermione got distracted at the Menagerie. She turned pleading eyes on her father immediately upon spotting a furry orange half-kneazle kitten. “Please, Daddy?” she practically begged. “I’m allowed to take a cat to school…”

“He’s half-kneazle, so he’s very smart and adaptable,” the store clerk said. “He should do fine at Hogwarts, even as a kitten.” George looked puzzled, so the clerk elaborated on what kneazles were and why cross-breeds had become popular as pets.

“You’re sure that’s the one you want, sweetheart?” George asked Hermione. She nodded vigorously, and the kitten seemed to be trying to climb into her arms as they spoke. It was definitely a match. “Okay.” He turned to the clerk. “We’ll also need a carrier, food, collar and whatever else a half-kneazle needs.”

Harry managed to sneak away from Hermione with a nod from George and get Hermione her birthday present, a magical cat toy that propelled itself in a random pattern around any room. He was also getting her a book, but he figured that Crookshanks deserved some love too.

After the Menagerie, they refilled their potions kits and ended up hanging out with Ron, Ginny, Fred, and George at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, George Granger a few tables away reading a Daily Prophet a previous patron had left behind.

Though Harry was distracted by Quidditch talk with Ron and Ginny, Hermione noticed the twins studying Harry with thoughtful expressions. When they glanced at Hermione, she simply smiled at them and took another bite of her sundae. She knew the twins were more than the image they presented to others, and she made a mental note to talk to her parents privately about what she should do if they started asking awkward questions.

If anyone was going to spot the changes in Harry, it was Fred and George Weasley. While the pranks and the lack of taking anything seriously always bothered Hermione, especially because she could see their obvious intelligence and their refusal to apply it to school, Fred and George were a lot more perceptive than anyone gave them credit for. Her first year she’d seen them noticing the same little things about Harry that had caused her to write home in the first place. At some point it may be necessary to have a conversation with them. As they were leaving, one of them said. “I like the new glasses, Harry,” in a quiet voice so no one else would hear. Harry had blushed and stammered out that the Dursleys had gotten them since his prescription had changed. The conversation drifted back to other things and the twins continued to speak quietly to each other while sneaking glances at Harry.

Jean came back a little while later with Harry’s and Hermione’s books looking rather upset and angry. “Everything all right dear?” George asked.

“There’s an egotistical, attention-seeking glory hound in the bookstore who says he’s going to be your Defense Professor,” Jean grumbled. “I skimmed one of the books. It was ill-written and it seems that all he cares about is being the center of attention. He’s the hero of every dangerous adventure he’s ever written about, which frankly, seems suspicious.”

“I’m sure he’s not that bad,” Hermione said. “After all, Dumbledore hired him.”

“I don’t think we can say that Dumbledore’s decisions are all good ideas any more,” Harry said. With the help of his therapist, Harry was starting to move past blaming himself for every single thing that could go wrong. He was also starting to express a bit of anger towards Dumbledore, which his therapist assured him was healthy.

“I suppose you make a fair point,” Hermione hedged. “The Dursleys, Quirrell…”

“Keeping secrets from me,” Harry added.

Hermione nodded. “Okay, fair point. So maybe Lockhart’s not that great, but he’s the only defense professor we’ve got, so I guess we have to try to learn something from him.”

All too soon, September 1st came around. Harry was pleased but not overly surprised when the Grangers hugged him just as tightly as they did Hermione before watching them get onto the train. They both promised to write, and soon the train whisked them away.

Harry was surprised that settling back into his dorm after the Welcome Feast was a little awkward for him. Hermione still came to his room whenever he had nightmares, though they were fewer and further between these days. He wondered if she’d still be able to sense him somehow and come find him when he needed her.

He suspected that she’d find a way, if it came down to it. It sometimes seemed like Crookshanks helped with that, too. Harry had Hedwig for himself, but Crooks was apparently perfectly happy to form a secondary attachment to Harry, or at least alert Hermione when something was up.

That night, he dreamt that he was back at Number 4, in the cupboard, and Petunia was yelling at him that Hogwarts wasn’t real and he needed to stop making up tales.. It was a nightmare he’d had before, and one that always left him deeply unsettled no matter how much Hermione tried to comfort him. 

Harry awoke and sat up in one fluid motion, Putting his hand over his pounding heart instinctively. “You okay, Harry?” came a curious voice. Harry opened his curtains around his bed and looked to the source of the voice. Neville was sitting up in the dark, his own curtains open. Harry realized that he’d forgotten to spell his bed curtains sound-proof as to not awaken his dorm mates.

“Sorry, Neville. Did I wake you?” Harry asked.

Neville shook his head. “I get nightmares too,” he admitted. “Getting thrown into the Irish Sea and nearly drowning, or any one of the many things my relatives did before I turned out magical… I know they did it out of love, you know? Sometimes I’m just taken back there by my dreams.”

Harry suddenly realized how similar he and Neville were, even though it hadn’t looked that way on the surface. He wondered if his parents or Hermione had felt about him the way he suddenly felt about Neville. “Neville, you know that isn’t… you know it isn’t right that your family did that,” Harry said softly. “Magic or not, they should protect you from danger, not push you into it.”

Neville considered Harry’s words for a moment. “Maybe,” he said finally, then cracked a smile. “They sure make for some funny stories though.”

Harry tried to smile back, but part of him was thinking over how both Hermione and his therapist would react to a comment like that. In the end, he was too tired to really figure it out, though. He’d talk to Hermione in the morning. “I guess they might,” he finally replied. “Think you’ll be able to sleep again?”

“Yeah, I think so. Night, Harry.”

“Night Neville.”

As classes started again, Harry noticed how much he had retained by studying with Hermione over the summer. She’d shown him things like more efficient ways to take notes that helped Harry with his essays immensely. He was also no longer holding back. Most of his teachers from the previous year were giving him calculating looks. Professor Flitwick was practically beside himself with excitement, and eagerly encouraged Harry to continue sitting with Hermione if this was the result - though he was kind enough to say so privately. 

It did have its drawbacks, however. Professor Lockhart kept trying to corner him and give him advice on how to capitalize on the fame that Harry had no interest in. It was both irritating and ran completely counter to his instincts. To make things worse, a new first year named Colin Creevey kept trying to take photographs of him; aside from those things, generally Harry was happier than he’d ever been.

In Potions, Harry and Hermione worked together as much as they were allowed. For the first time, they successfully handed in a perfect potion, which Snape took without comment. However, as Harry was headed back to his seat, Draco stuck his foot out, tripping Harry who ended up stumbling before recovering.

“Detention, Potter.”

“What for?” Hermione automatically objected. “Malfoy tripped him.” 

“For endangering the lives of students, Granger. And you’ve earned a detention as well, for challenging my authority. If you say one more word I’ll be forced to take points away.”

“Some things never change,” Ron said, laughing after they got out of Potions and were on their way to lunch. “See Harry, there’s no point in making all this effort Hermione wants you to. Everyone is still going to treat you the way they’ve always perceived you.” 

Harry wasn’t so sure of this; the way Snape had looked at him had felt different from last year. There was empathy in his eyes. It was hidden, so slight that almost no one would have caught it, but it was there beneath Snape’s usual loathing for Harry. “Maybe,” he said. 

Detention on a Friday night was not fun, but Harry and Hermione admitted to each other that at least they were serving detention together. And it was much better than losing their Saturday afternoon for it instead. Harry entered the dungeon potions classroom first, his sister at his heels, and froze when he spotted not just Snape, but McGonagall too.

“Sit, sit,” McGonagall said when they stopped in the doorway. Startled, they began moving again and took seats in the front row of desks. The professors waved their wands at the door, putting up locking and silencing charms simultaneously. Harry and Hermione looked uncertainly at the pair of professors, waiting for instructions or… or whatever was about to happen.

When no one spoke for a long moment, Hermione tentatively raised her hand. “Yes, Miss Granger?” Snape startled both students with his even tone.

“Pardon me, Professors, but I thought we were here for detention. I didn’t think it was serious enough to involve our Head of House, though…?” Hermione was confused, and it showed in her tone.

“You are correct, Miss Granger,” McGonagall spoke up. “Detention was simply a means to an end. We feel the four of us need to have an honest discussion.”

“Nothing spoken of in this room will be shared beyond those present,” Snape added, his tone firm but without the disdainful edge it usually held. “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Harry and Hermione chorused.

“I saw you in Venice,” Snape admitted reluctantly. He looked a little ashamed, as if he felt guilty for his deception.

Harry paled. “No…” He’d be sent back to the Dursleys… he should have known all this was too good to be true.

“The stranger in the apothecary shop,” Hermione concluded, not initially noticing Harry’s panic. Snape nodded. “And Dad told you that Harry is living with us, now.” It wasn’t a question; Harry had filled her in on what he’d overheard one afternoon when they were home while their parents were at work.

“Indeed,” McGonagall said. “Mr. Potter, why were you not with your family?”

Hermione finally turned and saw the fear in Harry’s eyes. She scooted her chair closer to his and took his hand. “It’s okay,” she reassured him.

Harry swallowed and took a breath, recentering himself. “If you’ll pardon me for saying so, Professor, the Grangers are far more my family than the Dursleys ever were,” Harry said forthrightly. He still had trouble with the idea of calling them Mum and Dad, but he felt more like he belonged with them than anywhere else he’d ever been. “The Dursleys…”

“The Dursleys were horrible!” Hermione interrupted. “Didn’t you see how his Hogwarts letter was addressed? Don’t you care?”

The two professors exchanged a glance. “The invitations are addressed by a magical quill connected to a record of magical children. We seldom see them directly,” McGonagall explained.

Hermione looked at Harry, uncertain if he’d want to share and, if so, did he want to tell them or have her do so?

Harry gulped and took another deep breath. “My relatives... b-burned th-the... letters, so I don’t have it…” Harry stammered. “But for as l-long... as I c-can remember, I... lived in the cupboardunderthestairs.” Snape and McGonagall both stared at Harry as he spoke the truth very quickly. He had hoped they’d missed what he said, but clearly they heard as their jaws dropped.

“That’s not even the worst of it,” Hermione added in a low voice, squeezing Harry’s hand in reassurance. “I… I wrote to my parents during last term, asking for advice because I thought Harry showed signs of child abuse. I don’t know how everyone else missed it, honestly. Even if he’d just been small for his age, he shouldn’t have been that skinny. We were all scared as first years, but for Harry it was more than that. My parents told me they would take care of it. I don’t know how things are in the Wizarding world, but in the Muggle world we have laws against mistreatment of children. Mum told me that the Dursleys didn’t want Harry at all; they signed the paperwork to pass off custody without even reading it all.”

Harry refused to look away from McGonagall, daring her to make any contradictory comments, refusing to show the fear he felt. Hermione knew not to say anything really bad that he’d talked about in therapy. He didn’t want Snape knowing any of his past, really, but he’d settle for him knowing only the gist of it. Snape was the one who ended up commenting instead. McGonagall seemed too horrified to speak. 

“Tuney, you hateful  _ hag _ masquerading as a woman!” Snape growled. “To think she’d let her envy of her sister and her fear of magic cause her to  _ mistreat _ a mere infant…” Snape took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I never understood why Dumbledore insisted upon placing you with the Dursleys. Even with the blood wards protecting you with Lily’s family, there were places within the magical world where you could have grown up just as safe.”

“Excuse me, sir, but blood wards?” Hermione asked, puzzled.

“Excuse me,  _ Tuney _ ?” Harry exclaimed. Trust Hermione to be interested in the magical aspect, but he was far more interested in why Professor Snape used a nickname for his aunt!

With a sigh, Snape turned his gaze to meet Harry’s. “I knew your mother and your aunt, growing up,” he admitted in an even tone. “Tuney was her nickname - what Lily always called her. They lived up the street from my parents’ home. Petunia was incredibly envious of Lily’s magic, as it was something her sister had that she didn’t. And over time, she grew to fear it just as much as she coveted it. Because muggles have few if any defenses against a determined wizard.”

“You were friends with my mother,” Harry said as the realization dawned on him. Snape looked like he was going to object, so Harry kept speaking. “No, you were. You obviously hate my Aunt, and both you and my mother were the same age, so the nickname must have come from her. You… you lost her too. I’m… I’m sorry, Professor.” His view of the professor was suddenly shifting as he put the pieces together. He had his mother’s eyes, and Snape must have a hard time even looking at him. A constant reminder that his friend was dead.

“The past is past, Mr. Potter,” Snape replied, looking uncomfortable. “But… thank you.”

“Would you… would you tell me more about her sometime? Please?” Harry’s mouth ran faster than his brain for a moment, though he bit his tongue when he caught Snape’s expression.

“Perhaps,” Snape conceded before Harry could open his mouth to take it back.

“So if Mrs. Dursley hated magic, why send Harry to her as a baby?” Hermione inquired. “These protections you mentioned?”

“Essentially, yes,” McGonagall finally found her voice. “Though most who observed or knew Lily and James objected to the action. There were… other options… but blood wards are notoriously the strongest protections. And even with Voldemort gone, there were still all the Death Eaters…”

“My parents have legal custody of Harry in the Muggle world now. I don’t think the Dursleys would ever take him back anyway,” Hermione went on. “Harry’s my brother, and we want it to stay that way. Is there any way to… I don’t know… to transfer those protections? So he can still be safe? I read about oaths of blood brotherhood among some of the northern European cultures; is there a Wizarding equivalent?”

Snape snorted. “Always the know-it-all, Miss Granger.” But his tone actually sounded… fond, more than derisive. She blinked in surprise, and Snape sighed again. “We all have our roles to play, Miss Granger. And if the Dark Lord is indeed attempting to return, I must maintain mine.”

“Well, I’m not all Gryffindor,” Hermione said, eyes going wide as she realized what Snape meant. “The Hat considered me possible for every house. If not for pureblood bigotry, I might have been in Slytherin.”

Hermione and Harry both came to the same conclusion at the same time. “You’re so mean to Gryffindors because you have to be,” Harry realized. “People have to think you hate us.”

“As quick as ever, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall complimented, tacitly confirming Harry’s guess.  

“I’m not all Gryffindor either. Actually, I’m mostly not,” Harry said with a dry laugh. Snape’s jaw dropped. Then McGonagall’s followed. “I had to beg the Sorting Hat not to put me in Slytherin.”

“Apparently everyone around here really does just see hair, scar, and fame,” Hermione noted idly. “Anyway, about protecting my brother.”

“There is a way to… bind you together, so you may stand in for blood kindred,” Snape began.

“We can’t, Severus, that’s Dark Magic!” McGonagall protested.

“Magic isn’t really light or dark, though,” Hermione pointed out thoughtfully. “It’s really more about intent. Is a knife evil because one person stabs another with it? Or is it the person that’s dark, and the knife is just a tool? And isn’t magic just a different kind of tool?”

“Well said, Miss Granger,” Snape said, a glimmer of approval in his eyes. Hermione sat up straight and tried not to grin like a loon; she’d always hoped to win approval from Snape in some fashion. “Unfortunately, I don’t think we can inform the Headmaster about this new development. So we’ll need to plan our next moves carefully.”

“That’s what we… sort of figured…” Harry said. “Dumbledore…”

“Dumbledore is keeping you in the dark,” Snape finished. “As he wishes to allow you to remain a child for as long as possible.”

Harry snorted. “I haven’t been a child in…” He spotted the look on McGonagall’s face and was surprised when he saw how ashamed she looked. “Well, in a while.”

“But we had fun in Venice, right?” Hermione reminded him. “My parents want you to have some time to be young too. An insane murderer isn't something they think we should have to deal with ourselves.”

“They aren't entirely wrong,” Snape spoke lowly. “However, there is a prophecy concerning you and the Dark Lord.”

“What?” Harry asked freezing. 

“Severus…” McGonagall started. 

“He deserves to know,” Snape snapped. There were a lot of emotions on Snape’s face. Fury, guilt, shame, regret, and more emotions that Harry wasn’t sure he could name. “His parents were killed because of it. And Dumbledore is right, the Dark Lord is coming back. It’s only a matter of time. The only thing we can do is protect the child or children who are supposed to be the ones to defeat him. And they cannot do that with incomplete or insufficient knowledge.”

“I want to be prepared,” Harry said. “I… I don’t want to let anyone down. My mother died to save me and I owe it to her to survive, if I can.”

Snape nodded slowly, looking at Harry assessingly. “The prophecy states that a child would be born at the end of July,” he finally explained. “And that the Dark Lord would mark him as his equal. The child would have a power the Dark Lord does not know. In all honesty, it could have been you or Longbottom the prophecy applied to, but since the Dark Lord went after your family… well, that has made you the subject.”

“A power the Dark Lord doesn’t know?” Harry looked puzzled. “That sounds like even more of a reason to be as prepared as possible.”

“I - we - can help you with preparedness,” Snape said. His tone was completely uncharacteristic of Harry’s idea of who Snape was. Instead of disdain, Snape’s voice was full of concern. “But Harry, you’re twelve. No one can expect any one adult to save the world, let alone a child.”

“He’s twelve, I’m thirteen, and I’m definitely not letting him do this alone,” Hermione insisted. “We’ll learn everything we can, everything you’re willing to teach us.”

McGonagall shook her head. “I’m sure we can give you some additional tutoring, but if Severus is willing, I would suggest you start with Occlumency. If we are to keep this between the four of us, you two in particular will need to learn to protect your thoughts and how to guard your emotions.”

“You are far too young to learn in most circumstances, but I suppose these are not normal circumstances,” Snape added. “I suppose that I can arrange some remedial potions for you, Potter, as a cover, though I am unsure how Miss Granger would be able to come as well.”

“Perhaps Miss Granger might consider becoming a Transfiguration Apprentice in the future? That typically requires some negotiation as well as aptitude testing. We could then take the Floo from my office to yours,” McGonagall suggested.

“I would certainly give the idea due consideration, Professor,” Hermione answered promptly. “In reality, actually, but it will do as a cover as well.”

Harry hesitated, then asked, “What about the others who are being abused at home? I can’t be the only one here… is there a system in the Wizarding world? Like Neville, and how his family practically beat the magic out of him.”

“It’s considered a family-enforced law. Essentially, the head of your family has to report it,” McGonagall explained with a tinge of regret in her voice.

“What about a support group, then? At least for the students here at Hogwarts?” Hermione suggested. “I don’t think Wizarding healers really become therapists or anything, but I do know that sometimes just talking to someone outside the situation can help. And knowing they’re not alone in their suffering might help too.”

“It couldn’t be anything official,” McGonagall mused. “Doing so would draw too much attention to it. But perhaps something private?”

“Perhaps we could arrange a private - and privately accessed - room off the Library?” Snape suggested. “Hogwarts Castle has caused such rearrangements of its own accord in the past when students have needed something special.”

“True enough.”

Snape eyed first Hermione and then Harry. “Will you two be able to set aside petty problems and House rivalries while in this group of yours? I suspect if you go looking for other such students, you may find them from all corners of the school.”

Harry considered the question quietly, then slowly nodded. “Everyone would need to agree to it, but this… this is bigger than House rivalries. And like I said, I’m not all Gryffindor. Neither is Hermione. Neither are most people, I suspect.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed as she thought hard about the issue. “We’re willing if everyone else is, but it might be hard at first. Perhaps we could also agree to nicknames or pseudonyms while there. Especially some of the purebloods tend to load an awful lot of disdain into the family names of people they consider traitors.”

“We would appreciate it if you keep us informed of the membership of your little group,” McGonagall requested. “I would presume that, much like this discussion, the content of your meetings would be kept private. But we would like to know who to watch and whom we should be more careful with.”

Hermione nodded. “I probably don’t actually qualify to be a member, but perhaps I could help to mediate and organize.”

Snape raised an eyebrow. “You don’t consider yourself to be abused by your peers, many of whom treat you poorly due to the circumstances of your birth?” His tone was skeptical, but also curious.

Hermione shook her head. “There’s a difference between abuse and bullying. I learned a long time ago to brush off what bullies would say, because they aren’t people I trust or respect and their opinions don’t matter. I won’t even try to say that it doesn’t hurt, but it’s easier to get over. Child abuse is much worse, because it comes at the hands of people that the child does or should be able to love and trust.”

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. “That’s… quite insightful Miss. Granger,” she observed. 

Hermione shrugged. “No matter how much of a bully Professor Snape can be, due to how dangerous Potions can be, he’s never made me think he was going to hit someone.” She gasped, realizing what she’d revealed. McGonagall and Snape both slid their gazes from Hermione over to Harry and stared at him in horror.

“Sometimes,” Harry said, almost too quietly to hear. He squeezed Hermione’s hand to reassure her that he didn’t blame her for spilling how he felt. “My Uncle… he uh… he’d get like that. Mocking and critical while he stood over me. My Uncle is more than three times my size, understand...and, well, it never ended with just words.” Harry saw something darken in Snape’s eyes, some memory that came to mind perhaps.

“I… understand that feeling. Only too well,” Snape admitted in a low voice. “My father… also hated magic.”

“I honestly didn’t think anyone cared; I just assumed everyone knew,” Harry admitted.

“Yes, well, we hope to rectify that,” McGonagall said. “Though we have a bit more planning to do.”

“There is one more thing, Mr. Potter,” Snape said. “I have noticed a severe uptick in your proficiency, as have your other teachers. Care to explain?”

Harry blushed hard. “My Aunt and Uncle used to punish me if I out-performed my cousin, Dudley, in anything, so I got into the habit of holding back a lot. The only time I didn’t have to was in maths class because I got placed in the Advanced Classes in Year One. My Aunt and Uncle were really angry to hear about it, but they couldn’t change the school’s decision, so after that they simply ignored my maths grades.” 

“And you continued the habit here,” McGonagall concluded.

Harry nodded. “This is the first time I’ve ever had anyone care about my marks and whether I did my best. Last year, I was afraid of doing better than Ron because I thought he wouldn’t want to be my friend if he knew I was a brain too.”

McGonagall knelt in front of where Harry was sitting, “Thank you for telling us,” she said. “If you’d like, we can work with you to break you of this habit. I would like you to run through a series of assessments tomorrow so that we know where your skills really are.” 

Harry nodded. “I can do that. Hermione is already trying to help. We study together a lot.”

“And I promise, I won’t be mad if you score better than me,” Hermione added. “If you worked hard for it and you do better, I’ll be very happy for your achievement.”

“As a good sister or brother should,” McGonagall gave them both an almost maternal smile.

Harry and Hermione got back to the common room hours later to find Ron still up waiting for them. Crookshanks bounded down the steps from the girls dorms, too, heading straight for Hermione, who scooped him up with a smile and a sigh. Ron glared at the kitten, but Scabbers was safely upstairs and safe from Hermione’s new familiar. Scabbers seemed unbothered by Crookshanks though. A third of all Gryffindors had cats, after all. 

“Merlin, Snape kept you late,” Ron said. “All for tripping. What’d he have you do?”

“Lines,” Harry said. “And a lecture on respect for authority.”

“And what about you,” Ron said, looking at Hermione. “It’s not like you to get detention. What happened to you two this summer?”

“Guess you two just rubbed off on me more than you thought last year,” Hermione said, faking a smile after a moment.

“Hermione, didn’t you mention you thought I’d had a growth spurt this summer when your parents picked me up at the Dursleys when we were meeting Ron at Diagon Alley?” Harry asked. It was true that Harry had had a growth spurt that summer, nearly two inches in a just a few months, but Harry’s pediatrician was fairly confident that had more to do with actually having consistent, healthy meals for the first time in ten years than it being related to puberty.

“Yeah,” Ron said all of a sudden. “I knew I was missing something. That’s it. You’re taller. And ‘Mione… you have… more color?”

Hermione chuckled, doing her best to ignore the nickname he’d stuck her with. ‘‘Mione’ just seemed to her like he was too lazy to say her whole name. “Professor McGonagall wrote my parents last year about being caught out after curfew. My parents grounded me for the first few weeks of the summer; no reading except for homework after dinner, and I had to stay outside all day. So I got a lot of sun.” She did have a bit of a tan, and there were gold and amber highlights in her chestnut hair from the sun.

“Aunt Petunia had me gardening a lot this summer,” Harry lied.

“Well at least all that’s over for the year,” Ron noted. “Time for leaving homework until the last minute, goofing off in Transfiguration, and lots of Quidditch.”

“Actually, I think it’s time for bed,” Hermione said, yawning. 

“Yeah.” Harry concurred. “Bed sounds good.”

“Awww,” Ron pouted, but Harry and Hermione ignored him. They just said goodnight and headed for their respective dormitories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, we love comments. Tell us what you thought of the chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which classes continue, Lockhart is a prat, and Harry hears a terrible voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much to everyone who has left comments and kudos or shared our story with friends. Your support means the world to us!

**Chapter 3**

Classes continued as normal for a while; the only visible difference happened in Potions. Suddenly,  Snape ceased to stand over anyone, sneering at their attempts to brew potions. Just within their class, Neville was blowing notably fewer cauldrons up without the distraction. Harry’s proficiency at the subject, meanwhile, had sharply improved now that he had parents who expected his best, a Professor who wasn’t nitpicking over his shoulder, and a sister who pointed out that brewing potions was very much like baking. Follow a set of instructions as carefully as possible and you should get the proper results. The first potions class that Snape backed off of Harry physically, he was able to relax; he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and pictured being back in the kitchen at the Grangers. Being there, he was able prep his potions ingredients with extreme precision. His new glasses prescription helped out a lot too; he could actually read the instructions on the board clearly.

With Quidditch practice starting up again, and Harry no longer holding off on or putting off his homework, Ron started to grumble that Harry spent so much time on homework and with Hermione, but especially in ‘remedial potions’ with Snape. Regardless, Ron couldn’t argue when Hermione pointed out how much Harry was improving in all his classes. Hermione, meanwhile spent several evenings, ostensibly discussing a possible future apprenticeship, with McGonagall. In reality, they were both receiving extra tutoring from their teachers, including building the foundations of Occlumency shields. Once the foundations were built, they wouldn’t have to meet as frequently, as they could practice on their own.

Snape was surprisingly gentle with their minds as he slowly taught them how to build mental walls and sense when someone attempted to invade their thoughts. The work still gave them headaches, but Snape provided mild pain potions at the end of each lesson and that in itself was accepted with gratitude by the siblings. Whatever abusive memories Snape did manage to see from Harry, it comforted him to know that Snape had been abused too, and wasn’t going to pity him for it.

Likewise, Hermione was comforted to know that Snape wouldn’t make fun of her for her childish mistakes, nor would he be displeased by the joyful childhood memories he found in her mind. She actually had the impression he was pleased to learn that there really were good families out there, and not just angry, abusive and powerful parents. Not to say that he was particularly pleasant about it, but it was more that Snape acknowledged that this was necessary.

For whatever reason he’d done it, Dumbledore insisting Harry stay at the Dursleys wasn’t _safe_ , and rather than go to Dumbledore and tell the truth (typical Gryffindor response, Snape had drawled at Harry), Snape was responding in a Slytherin way - accept that Harry had found an acceptable way out and making sure that it _stuck_ before anyone with the power to object learned of the change.

Harry and Hermione both agreed that they hated going to Defense class. It wasn’t the class so much as who was teaching it. Their first defense class, Lockhart gave them an eighty question quiz about himself. They grew to loathe Lockhart, who would only talk about the things that he had done, and didn’t ever even teach them any practical knowledge. Hermione actually fact checked some of the things Lockhart said and there were inconsistencies. Lockhart denied error and no longer called on Hermione when she raised her hand, a fact that most students found hilarious.

Additionally, Lockhart kept cornering Harry. “Harry,” Lockhart said, startling Harry on his way to double Herbology. “Harry. Harry. You clearly need lessons on how to use your fame to your advantage. Why I don’t believe you’ve done anything to increase your fame.”

“Sir, I have to get to class…” Harry started.

“Nonsense,” Lockhart dismissed, waving his hand. “I can write you a pass. Now, what you need is a plan.”

“Sir…”

“Harry?” Hermione called. “We’re going to be late.” She gave Lockhart a falsely sweet smile. “Excuse me, Professor, but we really do need to be going. So sorry to interrupt and all.” She looped her arm in Harry’s and pulled him away from the obnoxious professor.

After that, Hermione and their friends resolved not to let Harry alone with Lockhart. Any time Lockhart tried to come near Harry, Hermione or Ron or Neville or even the twins would come up with something they had to go do. It saved Harry a few times, and Hermione kept pressing Harry to report Lockhart. Harry wasn’t exactly against the idea, but didn’t want anyone to go through any trouble. Hermione chastised him in private about slipping into old habits and how he should write to his therapist. Harry eventually capitulated, and sent a letter to his therapist by way of home. He got a letter back, essentially saying the same things as Hermione. That his mental well-being was worth other people’s time to assist him if there was really a problem.

Still, Harry defaulted to not trusting adults, preferring to take the long way around the Defense classroom rather than turning to McGonagall about it. He _definitely_ didn’t want to talk to Dumbledore about it. His trust in Dumbledore had been badly shaken by what they’d learned from Snape and McGonagall, as well as his anger at him for being left at the Dursleys, and Hermione agreed with him. So Hermione decided to give Harry his space and they took the long route around Lockhart.

The night before Hermione’s birthday, Harry and Hermione had stayed late in the Library. There weren’t really any plans for her birthday, but Harry was trying to talk her into something. They were were just leaving for Gryffindor Tower when Harry heard a strange voice coming from above him. “...LET ME RIP YOU... LET ME TEAR YOU… SO HUNGRY FOR SO LONG.” Harry jerked back, staring upwards.

“Harry?” Hermione asked. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

“That voice…” Harry said distantly.

“What voice?” Hermione asked, her eyebrows drawn together.

“It was just… you didn’t hear that?”

Hermione shook her head, studying Harry with concerned eyes. “I didn’t hear anyone speaking. What was it saying?”

“‘Let me rip you, let me tear you,’” Harry repeated. “‘So hungry for so long.’”

Hermione blinked. “That… sounds rather like a threat. Where did you hear it?”

“It was above us, moving quickly… it sounded big, much bigger than a person.”

Hermione reflexively looked up, but there was nothing on the ceiling that she could see. “Um… okay. Somehow I don’t think we’d have missed seeing it if it was that big. I wonder if it could be upstairs? Or maybe _in_ the ceiling? Maybe we should tell one of the teachers?”

“McGonagall?” Harry suggested.

Hermione nodded her agreement. “I think that would be best.”

“It’s almost curfew, would she still be in her office?” Harry asked.

Thinking of the patrol schedule that she basically had memorized thanks to her appointments with McGonagall, she nodded. “Yes. She isn’t patrolling tonight, so she usually stays in her office until a little past curfew to grade essays.”

Hermione led the way, knowing that Harry had a tendency to minimize his needs and put everyone else first. But this was definitely important, and she wasn’t about to let Harry dismiss it. Especially if something in the school wanted to kill people. So she pulled him along with her until they reached the hallway with McGonagall’s office access.

“Actually,” Harry said as he stopped in his tracks, panicked. “I probably just imagined it.”

Hermione stopped just before knocking on the door. “Harry?” Hermione asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I…. I was the only one who heard it and we were next to each other. I don’t want anyone thinking I’m crazy.”

“Harry, we’re learning magic in an invisible school and we’re about to talk to our Head of House who can turn into a cat. I think we can figure out an answer other than a mental health crisis,” Hermione reassured him.

“But… what if she thinks I made it up like last time? People always seem to think I just want the attention,” Harry protested.

“Harry,” Hermione said patiently. “I believe you. I was there, and you were far too scared to have made it up. Just because I didn’t hear it, doesn’t mean that you didn’t. So come on, please.” She knocked on McGonagall’s office door. They heard the professor call them inside and Hermione opened the door, pulling Harry in with her.

“Excuse us, please, Professor, but we need to speak with you,” Hermione said as McGonagall looked up from the papers on her desk.

“Of course, Miss Granger, Mr. Potter. Please, do sit down,” McGonagall invited.

Harry sat stiffly in the chair, though Hermione settled into hers much more comfortably. “Professor, just a little while ago we were walking down the halls when Harry heard a voice threatening violence. I didn’t hear anything, but I don’t believe he was imagining it.”

“Please elaborate. Mr. Potter? What did you hear?” McGonagall watched them both closely, taking their concerns seriously.

“The voice… it said… ‘Let me rip you… let me tear you… so hungry for so long,’” Harry said in a monotone. “But it was big and… really creepy.” He shuddered. Even after all that he had faced last year, it scared him. But his therapist told him that fear was natural in the face of danger, and it was how a person dealt with it that mattered.

“How big would you say?” McGonagall asked, frowning in concern. “Are we looking for a person, do you think? Or something smaller? Someone’s pet?”

“Definitely not a pet. I think… I think it might be bigger than a person,” Harry admitted. “It sounded huge. Like a bus… er… like a dragon.”

“I thought perhaps it was on the floor above, because we didn’t see it,” Hermione added. “But surely something that big would have been seen by _someone_ . So perhaps it was somehow… _in_ the ceiling?”

McGonagall looked pensive. “I do not recall if it’s possible, but I will look into it.”

“Thank you, Professor,” Hermione said pleasantly. Then she gave Harry a pointed look, going from her brother to their head of house and back again.

“Um. One more thing Professor, if you could, please,” Harry began, hesitating. But maybe he should finally listen to his sister. McGonagall gestured for him to continue. “Professor Lockhart is really starting to bother me. He keeps trying to push me into capitalizing on my so-called fame. He doesn’t understand that I really just want to be another student.”

“I will speak with him. Thank you for informing me, Mr. Potter.”

They thanked her and left her office, moving quickly to get to Gryffindor Tower before curfew.

Ron was playing wizard’s chess against Dean by the time they got back. Harry approached them. “Can I get next?” he asked diffidently. It was obvious there was an awkward wedge between Ron and Harry. Harry had changed, now that he had… parents who gave a damn about him, and for some reason that angered Ron. He spent a lot more time on his studies, started sleeping more and was competing with Hermione for the top spot in most of their classes. Between Quidditch practice and homework, Harry didn’t have much time for goofing off, so  instead of spending time with Harry, Ron had been spending more time with Seamus and Dean.

“Seamus has next,” Ron said icily. “I figured you’d just want to spend time with your new best friend.”

Harry took a step back, eyes wide. “Why can’t you both be my best friend?” he asked.

“You’ve made your choices abundantly clear,” Ron said stubbornly, taking Dean’s rook.

“I almost died last year because I didn’t think things through,” Harry pointed out. Ron stiffened. Harry noticed several people stopped what they were doing, including Fred, George, and Percy, and started watching them. “Don’t you think maybe I should try something different?” Ron didn’t respond, instead turning his full attention to the chess game. “Okay, well, I’m around.”

Harry went to sit at the table beside Hermione instead, wondering what she was reading this time. Crookshanks moved from Hermione’s lap to Harry’s, clearly feeling needed. Hermione gave him a supportive smile. Harry didn’t smile back, but petted Crookshanks gently, glad for a little uncomplicated affection as Crookshanks began to purr. The rumble in his chest calmed him.

Fred and George came over and stood just behind the siblings’ seats. The pair looked up at them when they spoke.

“Don’t let ickle Ronnikins--”

“--disturb you too much. He--”

“--is just jealous. He’s always--”

“--wanted things without working for them.” The twins explained in their usual trade-off manner.

Hermione smiled a little at them. “Thank you, Fred, George,” she said, meeting the eyes of the correct twin when she said their names. “We like Ron, and he’s smarter than he thinks he is. But his attitude is, well…” She trailed off, not wanting to say anything offensive within Ron’s hearing range, and especially not to his older brothers. Oh, she knew the twins wouldn’t tell, but he’d likely accuse her of trying to turn his family against him next if he heard her say something. She didn’t want to invite more trouble with a careless comment.

“His loss,” the twins chorused.

Harry chuckled a little, but his eyes were sad. “Ron was the first friend I ever made. I guess I always thought that would be forever, you know?”

“People grow up, Harry,” Hermione soothed him. “Sometimes they change, sometimes they don’t. I guess only time will tell how Ron’s acceptance of us matures.”

Fred narrowed his eyes. “I think these two have done far more growing up than they ought, Gred.”

“I agree, Forge,” George said. “Perhaps we ought to take them under our wing instead.”

“Teach them how to have fun.”

“Show them what they’re missing.”

Harry and Hermione laughed at the twins’ antics. “We’re happy to spend time with you two,” Harry said.

“As long as you don’t try to prank us while we’re studying,” Hermione added with a gleam in her eyes.

The twins exchanged a glance, and then looked at Hermione.

“We promise,” they chorused in a near-whisper. “If you promise to join us in pranking from time to time.”

“We could always--”

“--use a quick mind--”

“--like yours to help us--”

“--cover our tracks.”

Hermione smiled and shrugged. “As long as you don’t set us up to take the fall for you.”

“Agreed,” the twins chorused again. It was bad form to pin the blame on each other or anyone helping them, anyway.

A week passed; Hermione’s birthday was notable only because of the gifts owled to her from her parents and the one Harry gave her. She never made a big deal of it, so even most of their friends didn’t notice. Harry was actually a little sad for her; now that he knew what it was like to have people to actually acknowledge your birthday and celebrate it, he felt more people at the school should know her birthday and want to share in it with her. He knew she wasn’t the kind to make a fuss about it, though, so he didn’t say anything. She hated being pitied as much as he did.

At the end of the week, since there were no classes on Friday afternoons, was when they held the first meeting for the kids at Hogwarts who were being abused at home. So far they had Neville, Draco, and Harry. Harry wasn’t thrilled that Draco was joining the group, but he kept his word to Snape - everyone deserved help. And obviously, Draco’s tantrums and verbal sparring were the ways Draco tried to cope. Snape seemed to know something more about the situation as well, but Harry decided to wait to hear from Draco rather than going over his head. That was the point, after all.

Harry, Hermione, and Neville waited nervously in the room off the library that Hogwarts had created. Hermione was delighted to find a few magical books on moderating group therapy that Hogwarts had provided, and she had already written a letter to hers and Harry’s therapist to ask for additional books and some advice. She expected them any day now; her parents had already forwarded her a few recommended volumes.

The door, spelled to act like a bookshelf unless you were on the admittance list, swung open and Draco stepped in. “No, no way in hell am I doing this with _him_ ,” Draco objected as soon as he stepped in.

“Sit down, now,” Snape said rather forcefully. Draco looked peeved for a moment, but Snape’s glare clearly made him rethink arguing.

“What’s wrong with Potter, then? His guardians refuse to give him a second dessert after dinner?” Draco spat instead, sitting as ordered but as far away as possible from Harry at the small table. “Now, Granger and Longbottom I believe.”

“Miss Granger will be here to moderate as soon as I can trust you to sit here and not kill each other. As for Mr. Potter…”

“Second dessert was never an option for me with my Aunt and Uncle. More often than not, I didn’t even get dinner,” Harry snapped in response to Draco. Hermione put a hand on his shoulder and Harry took a deep breath, letting it out slowly in the way his therapist had taught him. He looked down at his hands, unable to look at anyone before continuing “When my parents died, I was sent to my mother’s Muggle sister, her husband, and their son. They hate magic. To them, I was just Lily’s _freak,_ and not a child. I cooked all their meals, I cleaned the house from top to bottom... I didn’t even have a bedroom. While my cousin had two, I slept in the cupboard under the stairs. I had to be the first one up in the morning to make breakfast - which most of the time I didn’t even get to eat, and I was the last one to bed every night after I cleaned the kitchen.”

“Sounds to me like Harry was treated worse than any house elf,” Neville put in softly. “Even those in bad families.”

Draco’s eyes went wide and he looked absolutely appalled for just the briefest moment. Then his expression went completely blank, displaying nothing at all. Hermione thought it was an improvement on his usual sneering expression, though.

“My first year here at Hogwarts, they told all their neighbors and relatives that I’d been sent to a military school for troublemaking boys,” Harry added in a lower voice. “They never even told me about magic or my parents. For the first eleven years of my life, I was told Lily and James Potter died in a car crash because James Potter was drunk. And I wasn’t allowed to ask questions. I never even knew what they looked like before I came here.”

It was like the air was sucked out of the room. Everyone looked absolutely horrified at the thought. Even though not everyone had understood the entire thing, there was an air of fault around what Harry’d said. They understood enough to know that Harry had been told it was his father’s fault his parents had died, and nothing was further from the truth. Everyone in the Wizarding world knew that.

“I think,” Professor Snape said slowly, as if he were trying very hard not to visibly become angry, “we can use this as a reminder that even the most famous among us can belong in this room.” Harry’s cheeks immediately colored. He hadn’t meant to reveal so much from the start. Neville looked absolutely horrified at the hint of what Harry’s childhood - or utter lack thereof - had been like.

And with that, the group meetings for Abused Anonymous began. Friday afternoons after group meetings, Hermione learned to find both Harry and Neville a quiet and private place to think; either taking them to the greenhouses or the astronomy tower or some back corner of the library where they wouldn’t be bothered. She assumed Draco was doing the same on his own, but since he always left first and never asked to join them after a meeting - which he couldn’t anyway, because it would cause problems with his House - she could only hope he found what he needed and would ask for help if he couldn’t.

Draco held back a lot at first, not wanting to really admit the situation was really that bad, but eventually he’d broken down and confessed that the only time he ever saw his father growing up was when his father provided ‘discipline’ - which, he finally confessed, was usually in the form of a severe beating. Apparently the trip to Diagon Alley was the first time Draco had spent any time with his father in a nonviolent fashion, aside from the occasional ‘public’ event at the Manor, where the family image had to be preserved.

The meetings _seemed_ to be helping. At least now when Draco criticized them out in the open, there was a lot less fire than had been behind Draco’s words the first year. It was clear Draco was processing everything, which Harry’s therapist had advised Hermione took time, especially for those who lived with their abusers and hadn’t identified it as abuse.

Neville was adapting faster, but Harry and Hermione felt - when they discussed it privately - it was because Neville realized that horrible things had been done to him. Even though it had been done out of love, or at least he told himself that constantly, he knew it had been a terrible series of experiences and he was happy to finally have someone to talk to about it who actually could empathize.

Everyone had stories others could relate to. The first time Draco shared a story of his father beating him with a cast-iron fire poker, Harry was able to share that Uncle Vernon had done the same to him once. Harry was surprised to feel _relieved_ that someone else had been through it, and for the first time ever, Draco was smiling at Harry. Draco was finally starting to open up, learning that no one in that room was going to judge how he felt, how he still loved his father despite the abuse. Why he couldn’t leave his home, his family. The only reason why he didn’t love Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia was… well… they never called him family.

The three of them also agreed that Hermione was the best mediator they could ask for. She gave her attention intently, with an expression that told the speaker she was listening with everything she had. Draco and Neville found her surprisingly easy to talk to, and they never felt judged. She would ask gentle questions and accept those times when they couldn’t or didn’t want to answer. She occasionally made suggestions or read them a passage from one of her therapy books, which helped them all to understand that their group was by no means unique in the Muggle world - even if it was a first for Hogwarts. After only a few sessions, Draco apologized for how cruel he’d been to the three Gryffindors the year previous, and he was shocked when they all forgave him without asking for anything in exchange or holding any grudges. It was unlike any experience he’d had prior.

They decided to keep it just the four of them for the time being, though Hermione did tell them that she was keeping an eye out for other students. She figured they’d all have guessed after the first few sessions Snape sat in on, that they assumed he would also be watching for students and directing them Hermione’s way as he felt needed.

Hermione started bringing Crookshanks to meetings with her. The kitten seemed glad to dispense comfort as needed in exchange for being petted by whomever’s lap he was on. He even jumped into Snape’s lap once; Hermione froze, but the professor just scratched his ears and let him settle on one knee. Nobody commented. When he wasn’t needed, Crookshanks settled onto Hermione’s or Harry’s lap as everyone talked, purring in contentment. Harry knew Crookshanks was claiming him the way animals do, and made extra sure he regularly visited the owlery and used Hedwig for extra messages every once in a while, even just to send a note to Hermione or Hagrid. He also continued to send letters home with Hedwig, and let Hermione ‘borrow’ his owl to write her parents. In reality, every time Aslan delivered letters to Hermione for her and Harry, the golden owl would stick around for them to go to the owlery and give him the letters to send home. Harry received a few letters from their parents openly, and others were sent with Hermione’s, which she would slip discreetly into his bag during breakfast.

Weeks passed, and it was mid October before they knew it. One evening, during Harry’s occlumency lesson, Professor Snape studied Harry with an odd look during one of his breaks.

“Mr. Potter, may I ask you something?” Professor Snape asked.

“Sure,” he said.

“You said you would have been sorted into Slytherin. Why?”

Harry was silent for a few moments. “The hat wanted to put me there. Ron and Dumbledore think it’s because of my scar and what happened to me with Voldemort.”

“You seem to think differently,” Snape observed.

Harry nodded, then elaborated when Snape remained silent. “The hat said I had a thirst to prove myself, but that’s only part of it. I learned cunning from a young age growing up like I did. I had to be pretty sneaky to get enough food to eat during summers. Same with using any means to meet my ends. They’re good ends, but I’d do anything to save someone, or help a friend. I’m pretty Slytherin.”

“So why didn’t you let the hat sort you into my house?”

“Well, I mean, Hagrid told me some over-simplified thing about evil witches and wizards only coming from Slytherin, but what really sold it was Draco. I first met him in Diagon Alley, on August 1st. He was bragging about being a shoe-in for the house team and how much Hufflepuff sucks, and how muggle-borns shouldn’t be allowed in school at all… he reminded me of Dudley. I knew any house with him in it wasn’t a house I ever wanted to be in. I hadn’t even gotten to know Hermione yet, though I would have been even more against that mindset if I had.”

Snape frowned slightly, but then shook it off. “I cannot truly fault you for your reaction. Children are all very much a product of the environments in which they grow up; purebloods are well known for their disdain towards anything of the muggle world, including muggle-born witches and wizards. You, on the other hand, have a profound aversion to bullies and would rather be in a place where you can help people. I’m a little surprised you didn’t wind up a Hufflepuff.”

Harry shook his head. “While I do fit the loyalty and dedication aspects of Hufflepuff, when hard-pressed, I will lie to get things done. Sometimes you have to use every advantage, exploit the others’ weaknesses, in order to accomplish your goal. That doesn’t fit the ‘fair play’ ideal.”

Snape nodded. “That is also very Slytherin. While the ends don’t always justify the means, the world is seldom a ‘fair’ place.”

“I’m not blaming Draco. I’m just saying…” Harry sighed. It was impossible to explain without the whole, horrible story. “My Uncle Vernon destroyed my Hogwarts letter. Then the three after that. Hundreds and hundreds of Hogwarts letters tried to find their way to me. They didn’t want me to learn. And I didn’t understand why anyone would ever want to speak to me so badly they would send me letter after letter, or why my Aunt and Uncle were so against me reading it. So Dumbledore finally sent Hagrid to come pick me up. And I… It was like for the first time in my life, I could have been free from all of that. I mean, Ron’s not all that unlike Draco. Ron just introduced himself and we shared candy before he got all judgemental. As long as we were goofing off and having fun, it was never directed at me.”

Snape was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t think any number of apologies will ever be enough for the fact that I did not step in. I could make the excuse that I was young and trusted in Dumbledore, but that would only be part of the truth. As much as I… cared for… your mother, your father and his friends were… not pleasant to me when we were in school, so I refused to see the truth. I am sorry that for so long, I failed to see you as separate from him; to have only seen your father’s son and not your mother’s as well.”

The expression Harry saw flicker across Snape’s face when he said ‘not pleasant’ almost caused Harry to bristle and rush to defend his father… but when he really looked, as Hermione had taught him to, he saw something else. “Then… I suppose… it would be as if someone asked me as a young adult to take in Dudley’s son and raise him?” It wasn’t quite a question, but he phrased it as one.

“Perhaps in some ways,” Snape conceded. They returned to work a few minutes later, but with a much better understanding between them. Harry was pleased that the animosity between them in public was now a complete sham; Snape no longer hated him, and in return the respect he felt for his mentor was growing swiftly.

As the autumn rains started, Hermione taught Harry a charm to remove the mud from his shoes and robes before entering the castle. It came in handy during one particularly rainy Quidditch practice where he was covered in mud. He did it for his teammates too, for which they looked extremely grateful. After cleaning up and promising to teach them the charm, he went straight to the library. Sometimes AA group attendees used the meeting space to study during off-hours. After all, Draco Malfoy couldn’t be seen being friendly with Harry Potter.

“Hey,” Harry greeted.

“Did you understand anything Professor Binns said in class this week?” Draco asked.

“I’m fairly sure only Hermione is able to understand the point that Professor Binns is making,” Harry said.

Draco laughed. “Yeah, I get that.”

“I know some of it,” Neville spoke up tentatively. “My Gran likes history, and she taught me some when I was younger.”

Giving Neville a smile, Harry nodded. “Let’s see if we can make any sense of this before Hermione gets here. She shouldn’t be long.”

When Hermione came in, the look on her face was thoughtful, brows furrowed with some worry.

“Hermione?” Neville asked, having noticed her arrival first. “You okay?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes, Neville, I’m fine. But… if the rest of you don’t object, I think I’ve found someone else to invite to Friday’s meeting.”

The three boys exchanged a look, then turned back to Hermione to elaborate. “Who is it?” Harry asked.

“Her name is Luna Lovegood, and she’s a first year Ravenclaw. I found her wandering the halls with no shoes; she says it’s because her housemates took them and hid them from her,” Hermione said in a low voice.

“Loony Lovegood?” Draco asked, then shook his head when Hermione glared at him. “No, I mean, that’s what she’s known as among the pureblood kids. She’s half in her own little world most of the time.”

“That could easily be escapism,” Hermione pointed out. “Or a way to get attention; maybe she isn’t being beaten or starved, but neglect is still a sort of abuse. What can you tell me about her family, Draco?”

Draco thought for a moment. “She’s a distant relative of mine; most Purebloods are, though, so that’s not really a big deal. She lives alone with her father after an accident killed her mother. There were rumors that Pandora Lovegood had a touch of the Sight, which may or may not have passed to her daughter. As far as I know, though, they have no close family. Her parents were both only children of only children.”

“And her father?” Harry asked curiously.

Draco frowned in disapproval. “He’s been a few knuts short of a sickle, if you get my meaning,” he said. “The man insists on believing in things that have no evidence of existing. He publishes a gossip rag that regularly posts about one of them… the crumple-horned snorkak.”

“Something like Bigfoot?” Harry asked. Draco and Neville looked at him curiously. “Uh, muggle thing. Nine foot ape-man rumored to exist in various woodland areas around the world. People have claimed to have seen him, but they only get really blurry photos of it.”

“Weird,” Neville said. “I’ll take the wizarding world, thanks.” Draco laughed, no malice in his voice as he nodded in agreement.

“So do you think Luna could use our support too? Even if it’s not the same, her home life probably isn’t good,” Hermione ventured.

The boys all nodded. “Yes, I think we should try to help her,” Neville said.

“If we’re considering bringing in more people… I have a friend I would also like to bring,” Draco spoke up.

“Who is it?” Hermione asked.

“Theo. Theo Nott,” Draco stated. “His mum also died when he was little, and his dad is… rather like mine, as far as I know.”

“If you can get him to agree to keep our secret, then it’s fine with me,” Hermione said. “In the meantime, we all have studying to do.”

“Yeah, and we need your help with the essay Binns set us,” Draco complained. “That ghost is the dullest thing ever.”

“Anyone ever wonder how he grades our essays?” Harry queried.

“A seventh year does it,” Hermione said absently.

“I’d love to learn actual Wizarding history,” Harry admitted softly. “Not just the goblin wars.”

“Theo actually loves that topic. I’m sure he’d be happy to teach you.”

That Friday, they welcomed Theo and Luna into their group. They both seemed a little uncomfortable, but Theo relaxed when he realized just _why_ Draco had wanted him to join the group. Luna was both extremely forthright and extremely introverted. Some of the things she said didn’t make sense to anybody, but she relaxed when no one made fun of her or told her to stop spouting nonsense.

All through the introductions and initial explanation of the group, Harry was subdued, which Draco brought up halfway through the meeting. “You’re quiet,” Draco said. He knew Harry might not answer; everyone in the group was free to decline to discuss something until they were ready for it.

Harry shifted in his seat. “Tomorrow’s Halloween.”

“It's a hard day for Harry,” Hermione said sympathetically.

“I understand,” Neville said, and they all knew Neville really did.

“I do too,” Theo Nott said, “to some degree, at least.”

“All I know about my parents… it’s like they’re not even people any more. I wish I knew who they were. I want to know they’re… flawed. Human. And…”

“They’ve been made into idols,” Draco agreed. “Every pureblood our age was raised to know who they were. Who you are. But the stories they were… politically sanitized. They made it seem like you had this perfect upbringing. Like Lily and James Potter were some predestined, super Gryffindor couple…”

Snape tried not to participate too much in their sessions, but Harry saw him roll his eyes. He really needed to ask him about his mother, but that was for another time.

“He was less than nothing all his life, and then he got to Hogwarts and suddenly he’s famous. ‘The Boy Who Lived,’” Hermione said, a little shamefaced that even she’d been affected. But that was before she got to know Harry as a person. “No one wanted to know him, they just wanted to be close to the idol.”

Theo nodded slowly. “I don’t think most of us ever gave much thought to where you were growing up. You were the famous heir of one of the oldest families in Britain _and_ you survived a killing curse. I think most people assumed you’d be another half-blood with pureblood upbringing.”

“Sometimes it feels like I’m expected to save everyone,” Harry admitted. “Like, last year with the stone. Or the troll. Or…” Harry hesitated, glancing at Snape, who very slightly nodded. “Dumbledore thinks Voldemort could come back. That he’s not dead. And I saw him, or some version of him, last year and when Dumbledore spoke to me… it’s like he expected me to…”

“Dumbledore believes in the Prophecy,” Luna spoke up in her dreamy voice. “But I don’t think he realizes that all prophecies more like guidelines than rules. Bit like pirate codes… I mean, I don’t know what the actual prophecy _says_ but my mum told me that was the reason the Potters were killed. And if it says only you can do something because you survived, Harry, that doesn’t mean that you can’t have support to get you there.”

“Divination is mostly nonsense,” Hermione scoffed lightly. “Most prophecies are worded so that they can be interpreted to mean almost anything, or else they’re self-fulfilling. And I don’t believe someone can see the future in leaves at the bottom of a teacup.”

“Just because you don’t understand something, doesn’t mean it’s nonsense,” Draco said carefully. “There are seers, and yes sometimes their prophecies are vague. But usually there’s truth to them.”

“You shouldn’t feel like you have to save everyone, Harry,” Neville said. “Just like… just like I shouldn’t feel I need to live up to be a carbon copy of my father like my Gran expects. She didn’t even let me go to Ollivander. She simply gave me my father’s wand.”

Everyone, including Snape, stared at Neville. “Neville…” Hermione said. “That’s… that’s really dangerous.”

“She’s serious,” Theo concurred. “Wands bind to their owners. If it’s not yours, it won’t work properly.”

“The fact that your Gran is so determined to recreate Frank Longbottom that she’s literally set you up to fail is rather upsetting,” Snape interceded. “If you would like, I will accompany you to Ollivander’s tomorrow for a wand of your own.” Neville, who was growing less nervous of Snape, nodded, albeit somewhat stiffly. “As a matter of school safety, of course.”

“But sir, wouldn’t that possibly compromise your status among your peers?” Hermione asked. She had several guesses about why Snape’s behavior differed so much between class, public locations, and their private meetings. But she wouldn’t speak any of them aloud.

“There is such a thing as a glamour, Miss Granger,” Snape said.

“Oh, right,” Hermione blushed. “My apologies, Professor.” Turning the meeting back to its intended purpose, Hermione continued, “Do you have any questions for us, Theo, Luna? We’ve only started these meetings a few weeks ago, but we hope you’ll begin feeling more comfortable with us, too. And just so you know, this room is available to those of us keyed into it for studying together as well. We can’t disappear here all the time, but sometimes it’s nice to just be… ourselves. Together.”

Luna smiled. “I think it’s wonderful. I… find it hard to talk about home sometimes. But… in time…”

“We’ll give you all the time you need, Luna,” Neville said soothingly. “Sometimes it helps to just know people are here for you.”

“It’s nice,” Theo said, “to know there are people I can talk to who don’t pity me. People who understand. Even if one of them is The Boy Who Lived.”

“I was shocked beyond belief to hear that the kind of punishment some our parents use is illegal in the Muggle world,” Draco said. “We’re taught growing up that Muggles are inferior, savage and uncivilized. But a society with laws against hurting children… can’t be that bad, I don’t think.”

“Even there, it does still happen,” Hermione said sadly. “Just that there are consequences, and legal action can be taken to remove the child or children from the situation.”

“A lot of people, magic or muggle, think anything different is inferior,” Harry said. “My Uncle regularly called me a freak because I had magic in my blood.”

“You’re not a freak,” Hermione said defensively. Harry smiled.

“None of us are,” Neville spoke up, glancing around the room and including both Snape and Luna in that assessment. “We may all have problems, but everyone does. And thanks to Hermione, we’re finding a… a…”

“A healthy way to deal with them?” Hermione suggested when words seemed to fail Neville.

“People to support us when we can’t handle it alone,” Draco added.

“I don’t think I ever asked; why don’t you talk other than to support us, Hermione?” Theo looked at her inquisitively.

Hermione took a deep breath. “I was never abused as a child. Or neglected, or anything similar. My parents were - are - wonderful, and I’ve always gotten the support I needed from them. I was bullied, sure; a lot of smart kids are. Even here at Hogwarts it happens. But I’m in this group to mediate and moderate. If tempers flare, or if someone has an experience to share that no one else can relate to, I can at least research it and try to figure out how to  help them. Since I first noticed the signs in Harry, I started looking for them in others. And… I just want to help.”

“That’s so sweet, Hermione,” Luna nearly purred. “I’m glad I found a friend like you. I thought it was interesting that wrackspurts flee from you; normally they infest people with busy minds.”

Eventually, the meeting wrapped up and everyone parted ways. Harry wound up on top of the astronomy tower, staring at the ground. He spotted Hagrid’s hut and was reminded he hadn’t visited Hagrid at all. He debated going to see him. He knew today wasn’t the day though.

As the AA became more established, Hermione started using the table nearest to their hidden room as her usual seat in the library. She still spent more of her study time there than in the Gryffindor common room, mostly due to noise. But it also meant that if any of her AA club needed her - to talk, for study help, whatever - they could pass her a note or sometimes even just tell her with a look that they’d wait for her in the private room.

It didn’t happen too often; most things could wait for their Friday group meetings. But once Luna dashed into the hidden room in tears, and another time Draco stormed in with a face like a thundercloud. Every once in a while, when Ron’s complaints and grumbling really got to her, Hermione hid in the room herself to study where very few people could find her.

By dinner the next day, Harry was feeling a bit better. Harry had spent most of the day in a corner of the common room, open enough that his friends could spend some time with him, but away from the crowds. He was caught up on his schoolwork, so he spent the day reading his favorite books, wondering if his parents read to him as a baby. He also looked through the album Hagrid assembled and his Mum’s album as well. He was shocked to see a copy of his first Hogwarts acceptance letter, envelope and all, still sealed, tucked towards the back, as if by magic.

Oliver suggested going flying, and when Harry turned him down, he spent an hour or so with the rest of the Gryffindor team trying to invent new plays, some of them so ridiculous, Harry spent most of the hour laughing.  Fred and George, who were allowed to go to Hogsmeade, passed along a small assortment of pranks and sweets for Harry. Aslan also delivered a letter for Harry from the Grangers.

_Dear Harry,_

_We know today must be hard for you. So we want you to remember a few things. First, you are loved and are not alone, even if it feels like it. Second, we are proud of the young man you are becoming. We know your parents are too, looking down on you. We know they would want you to be happy, and to have a good life and a good family, even without them in it. So please, don’t feel guilty over enjoying being part of our family. As parents, we’re sure yours wouldn’t want you to feel that way. If anything happened to us, we would want you and Hermione both to find a new family and be happy with them, too._

_Third, we are extremely happy to hear that you’re beginning to use your past experiences to help other children. We’ve heard about some of it from both you and Hermione, though we do notice that neither of you ever uses names. To take a bad situation and turn it into something you can use to make the world a better place is a sign of a great person, a great man. We know you can be a great man someday, Harry, if that’s what you choose to do._

_Smile for us, son, and have a happy Halloween in as much as you’re able._

_Love,_

_Mum and Dad_

Harry carried the letter in his pocket, the slight weight and crinkle of paper was enough to remind him that he was loved, and even though he’d lost more than was strictly fair in this world, he had parents who loved him. He hoped his birth parents wouldn’t be upset that he had a new set of parents, as the Grangers claimed. He hoped that they were proud of him, despite his Slytherin tendencies. He wondered what their reaction would be to his childhood. He knew Jean and George struggled with accepting it. In the summer they had been extremely careful to treat Harry like he was twelve - a boy. It was because of them he now knew how to swim, had been to a different country, and had some understanding of what loving a person looked and felt like.

It was hard to be cheerful at the Halloween feast, even surrounded by the Gryffindor Quidditch team, but Harry faked his happiness, trying not to ruin everyone else’s fun. Hermione and Neville stuck close by his side, determined not to let him dwell on his negative feelings. They didn’t make him feel bad for being so down, but they tried to keep his mind in the present as Hermione described Muggle halloween celebrations for Neville.

At long last, the feast let out, and they started upstairs when Harry heard the voice again. “LET ME RIP YOU, LET ME KILL YOU!”

“Harry?” Hermione asked.

“That’s the voice…” Harry said softly. His stomach dropped. _Not now. Not tonight,_ he silently begged. He and Hermione ducked into an alcove and Hermione tried very hard to listen for what Harry was hearing. But she couldn’t make out any voices aside from the other students in the hall. She did hear something sort of hissing, but she brushed it off as wind finding a chink in the stones.

Even as they emerged, the crowd ahead just stopped. “Enemies of the heir beware! You’ll be next muggle-borns!” Harry heard Draco shout. They could hear the fear in his voice, hidden beneath the bravado.

Someone in front of him shifted to the side and Harry saw the red paint on the wall. ‘The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the heir beware!’ Hermione gasped at the same time Harry saw Mrs. Norris, hanging by the tail, stiff and looking… dead. Harry paled.

McGonagall was shouting for students to get out of her way. As she passed Harry and Hermione, she made eye contact and Harry nodded once. They’d talk later tonight.

Hermione tugged Harry away from the chaos and towards their Tower. But they stayed in the common room, ostensibly studying at one of the tables, until McGonagall sent Percy to fetch them to her office.

“Harry, Hermione,” Percy said as he approached them in the common room. “If you both would come with me, please.”

“What’s that about?” Seamus asked curiously.

Harry and Hermione both shrugged as they closed their books and set aside their parchments. “Not sure,” Hermione said as they stacked everything up at the end of the table, knowing they’d be back, and followed Percy out of the common room. Percy was quiet and didn’t ask questions as they walked; a fact Hermione and Harry were very grateful for. If he didn’t ask questions, they didn’t have to make excuses. Or maybe, as far as Percy was concerned, the fact that McGonagall had asked for them was reason enough.

McGonagall was waiting for them in the hallway. “Thank you, Mr. Weasley,” the Deputy Headmistress said. Wordlessly they went to her office. Walking in, they saw Snape there. “You heard the voice again?” McGonagall asked.

Hermione looked at Harry, who nodded. “It was the same voice,” Harry said.

“Did it sound like anything in particular?” Snape asked.

Harry shook his head. “Plain English. I mean, big and loud, but English.”

“Miss Granger, did you hear anything?” Professor Snape asked.

“I couldn’t hear anything over the the wind,” Hermione said.

Both Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall stared at Hermione. “Miss Granger, there’s no wind in Hogwarts,” Professor McGonagall said. “This may look like a drafty castle, but it isn’t. There are spells and protections to shield us from the outside.”

“Then why are the dungeons are so cold?” Harry asked.

“Being under the lake, the cold cannot fully be prevented,” Professor Snape explained.

“But I heard wind…” Hermione said. “Like air hissing through a crack in a window.”

“Hissing…” Professor Snape said, obviously thinking hard. “Mr. Potter, you said that you once made glass at a zoo disappear when your cousin shoved you out of the way? Where were you?”

“The reptile house, why?” Harry said.

“Severus,” McGonagall said, paling. “You couldn’t possibly think…”

“You were in front of a snake exhibit of some kind?” Professor Snape prodded for detail.

“Boa constrictor,” Harry said. “It was telling me about how it had never seen Brazil.” Hermione gasped. McGonagall put a hand over her mouth. Snape was nodding.

“You’re a parselmouth,” Snape explained. “It’s a rare magical power that allows you to speak to snakes. The last known wizard who could was from Slytherin’s line. Some think it’s a dark power but…”

“Magic can’t be dark,” Hermione said once again. “It’s how you use it that matters.”

“What about the Unforgivables?” McGonagall protested.

Hermione shook her head slightly. “I’ve read up on a few of them, especially the Killing Curse because of Harry. You have to really _want_ someone dead or the spell doesn’t work. It really is all about intent. And there are possible applications for the cruciatus and imperius curses that aren’t evil. Someone who's nervous system isn’t operating correctly might need a medical professional to use cruciatus to reset it. The imperius curse could be used if someone is not cognitively stable and may be threatening to harm themselves or others… magic is just magic. It’s the witch or wizard who is light or dark. And most people are actually a little bit of both, though obviously a Dark Wizard would be one who has given in fully to the temptation to do evil.”

“You are correct, Miss Granger. And no, I do not believe that the ability to talk to snakes is necessarily a dark power. No more than talking to wolves or cats or any other natural animal,” Snape elaborated.

“So I have this rare ability to talk to snakes,” Harry said slowly. “So you think what I’m hearing, that wants to rip and kill, is some kind of snake? Which is why even though she’s been right beside me both times, Hermione can’t hear it?”

“That would seem to make the most logical sense,” Snape agreed.

“Okay, but what is a snake that can do… whatever happened to Mrs. Norris?” Harry asked.

“She was petrified,” McGonagall said. “Not many snakes could do that.”

Snape looked pensive. “A basilisk could do it,” he said softly. “There was water on the floor. Indirect gaze of a basilisk causes petrification of living things.”

“A basilisk? Impossible,” McGonagall snorted. “Basilisks are fifty feet long! How could one be in the school without anyone noticing?”

Hermione looked thoughtful. “Most snakes can swim. Can a basilisk?”

“They have been known to,” Snape confirmed.

“Well, even if it’s fifty feet long, if it’s not too large in diameter, it could be swimming through the plumbing pipes.”

“Okay… so there’s a killer snake in the school,” Harry said. “Why aren’t we all dead?”

Everyone paused. “That I don’t know,” Professor Snape said. “I suppose it’s not impossible that another parselmouth is controlling it. But as I said, parselmouths are rare.”

“Perhaps it lairs someplace where the entry is normally closed? And it takes turning on the water in a particular area to let it loose?” Hermione theorized. “Perhaps in this Chamber of Secrets the message on the wall referred to?”

McGonagall frowned. “The last time anyone heard anything about the Chamber of Secrets was when I was a student here myself,” she commented. “A student was killed. But no one ever found a secret chamber.”

“Was it ever determined how they died?” Hermione asked in a lower, more respectful tone.

“No,” McGonagall said. “No investigation was done. The student accused was expelled from Hogwarts and the attacks stopped. The girl was a muggleborn, so there was no head of the family to press an investigation, and the ministry wanted things put to bed.”

“Our problem now is, if we close the school, we could just be sending whomever is doing this home,” Hermione mused. “Everyone would be safe, yes, but most of us would have nowhere to learn. And without finding the culprit, it couldn’t be reopened.”

“That’ll be something for us to figure out,” Professor Snape said.

“I’m going to ask Albus to call a staff meeting,” McGonagall said. “I believe we should discuss options for protecting the students until we can either rule out the basilisk or locate it.” Snape nodded agreement.

“Okay, I should get these two back to bed,” McGonagall said. “It’s plenty late enough, and I’m sure you’ve had a long day.”

Harry had a very hard time concentrating over the next few days. “You’ve been distracted lately, Potter,” Draco drawled teasingly during one of their study sessions. “Worried about our Quidditch match on Saturday? If you want to tell me that I’m the superior seeker, I’m okay with that.”

Harry gave a laugh. “Yeah right! I’m the one who’s the youngest seeker in a century.”

“Yeah, well, try to keep your game face on. I’m not beating you unless you’re anything less than your best. I want to beat you fair and square.”

“Well then we should get back to studying so Hermione doesn’t ride me about homework Friday night.”

They worked quietly for a little longer, but when Draco noticed Harry fidgeting again he decided to push a little. “Seriously, Harry, what’s wrong?”

Harry blinked for a moment, not used to hearing his first name from Draco. “I’m… not sure I can talk about it.”

“Pft,” Draco rolled his eyes. “Isn’t that the point of our little club? To talk to each other about things we can’t talk about normally?”

“Well, yes, but this isn’t a meeting. Just a study session,” Harry evaded.

“Is it about the Chamber being opened?” Draco guessed. “I mean, I’m a bit worried about it myself. I know the legend says it only goes after Muggle-borns, but it’s just a legend, right? Anyone could be targeted.” Harry nodded distractedly. “This is really bothering you…”

Harry sighed, wishing Draco would leave it. “I just. I grew up all alone, either being bullied or abused, and finding out about Hogwarts was like… breathing for the first time.” Draco nodded in agreement. “And then I came here and it was…”

“All about your fame and not about you,” Draco filled in.

Harry nodded. “And then it was Quirrell and the Stone and almost dying. And now this… just once I’d like a quiet year.”

“Something tells me nothing will ever be quiet with you around,” Draco laughed.

It was odd. After Draco stopped acting like a prat because of the abuse he received from his parents, he was actually pretty nice. They acted out their bitter rivalry in public of course, but here… here they could be themselves.

“Does Hermione know?” Draco asked, then shook his head at himself. “Of course she knows. That girl knows everything.”

Harry snorted. “Not quite everything. But yes; she’s the reason I don’t think I’m completely nutters right now.”

“Well, we can’t have the heir to the Potter line completely nutters, now can we?”

“Being the Malfoy heir, you’d know,” Harry said.

Draco grew serious. “No,” he said.

“No?”

“You do know that the Potters are one of the oldest wizarding families in England, right? Older than Hogwarts, I mean.”

Harry stared at Draco in shock. “What?”

Draco nodded. “They’re older than almost any wizarding family still alive. What, surely you didn’t think your trust fund was the only thing you had?”

Harry shrugged. “I never had any money at all, remember? Even that seemed like… more than enough.”

Neville came in, arms full of herbology textbooks. Draco, it seemed, had two black thumbs and was absolute rubbish at the subject, so Neville was tutoring him, while Draco tutored Neville in potions in exchange. “What’s more than enough?” he asked.

“Harry doesn’t know about his lineage. I was explaining it to him.”

Neville nodded idly as he stacked herbology textbooks. “Longbottom isn’t quite as old, but we’re old enough that Gran made me learn all the lineages as a kid. She says it’ll be useful when I’m of age and have to represent the family at functions, but for now it’s just boring.”

”Even if it’s boring,” Harry ventured tentatively, “do you think you could teach me about the Potters? I know… almost nothing. And I… I want to.” The two pureblood boys could see the longing for roots on his face, the need to know where he came from.

“Why don’t we arrange a time when Hermione can be with us?” Neville offered softly. “She can take notes for you, and you can just listen and take it all in.”

Harry beamed. “That sounds… wonderful.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Quidditch game and Lockhart strikes again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly 550 hits in the first 3 chapters?! You guys are amazing! Thank you all very much for your support and feedback. We love it!

**Chapter 4**

The rain finally let off for the Gryffindor vs Slytherin game that next Saturday. The pitch was muddy and there was a dampness that lingered in the air, but at least it wasn’t raining. Before kickoff, Harry and Draco traded jibes loudly at each other, supporting the well-documented fact that he and Draco ‘did not like each other.’ Harry fully expected Draco to start cheating, since they had agreed to doing so in the AA room the night before the game, to make a show that things hadn’t changed. Instead of that being his primary concern, though, Harry was unseated by one particularly persistent bludger twice in under a minute. 

Harry saw the twins chase after the bludger, hit it towards the Slytherin beater, only to have the bludger change directions and go after Harry again. Harry dodged it, scanning the field for the snitch as quickly as possible before having to dodge the bludger again by diving ten feet, then coming back up again.

Harry spotted Draco, who for the briefest of moments showed a flash of fear on his face. Draco quickly covered the expression with a cruel grin, then called out, “Guess you’re going to have a time winning this one, Potter.” Draco sped off, in search of the snitch in his own region of the pitch.

Harry spent most of the game diving and weaving, trying to get out of the way of the bludger. Fred and George repeatedly tried to get the bludger away from Harry, but it went after Harry even when the twins clearly hit it towards the opposing team.

Twice, Harry spotted the snitch but was deterred from catching it because of the rogue bludger. 

“What’s the score?” he shouted at Wood as he swerved to avoid the bludger down at the Keeper’s end. 

“We’re up by 20. But Harry, if you need to call it, we’d understand,” Wood bellowed back, looking worried.

“No!” Harry objected. Wood opened his mouth but Harry cut him off. “I’m not losing another game for Gryffindor!” He could practically hear Hermione’s objection to his assertion, but he elected to ignore the little voice in his head that sounded just like his sister, instead zooming off again. This was something he was good at. This was recognition he didn’t mind. Then he spotted it. The snitch, hovering by the end of Katie Bell’s broom. 

He took off after it. Draco seemed to either have spotted it too, or saw Harry’s reaction and started after him, but Harry was far closer. Harry flattened himself against his broomstick, gaining speed. He was 50 feet away… the snitch dived and Harry followed it. 30… the snitch zigzagged upwards again. Harry leaned forward to gain the extra speed, stretching out his hand. 20… the snitch darted left and upwards again. 10… Harry was almost there, 5… the snitch kept climbing. Harry’s hand closed around the snitch jubilantly. Two seconds later, WHAM!

Harry heard his arm break before he felt it. There was an almighty crack as the bludger flew into him with so much force that Harry was sure if he looked at his arm, he’d see the bone sticking out. The crowd was going wild, but the sounds were fading in and out, like an out of tune radio. He dove steadily for the ground, his good hand gripping onto his broomstick tightly. He closed his eyes, trying not to concentrate on the pain, but rather getting to the ground. 

The second his feet hit dirt, however, Harry rolled off his broom and onto the ground. Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet and Oliver Wood were beside him in the next moment. Harry spotted the Weasley twins trying to wrestle the rogue bludger back into the box. Harry then handed off the snitch, and Lee Jordan announced the end of the game while the rest of the team gathered protectively around him.

“Out of the way, out of the way,” Lockhart said. Harry groaned as the chasers, who were apparently as infatuated with Lockhart as half the girls at Hogwarts, let him through. “Ah, that does look rather nasty,” Lockhart was saying. “I can fix it in two shakes of a snidget’s tail.” Harry cracked open an eye and saw Lockhart pointing his wand at Harry’s arm.

“No,” Harry objected, but it was too late, and not other adults were around to intervene.

“ _ Brackium Emendo _ ,” Lockhart chanted. Harry’s arm felt very strange and his eyes grew as large as saucers when he saw it deflate. “Ah. That does happen sometimes,” Lockhart excused dismissively. “Well the important thing is that it’s not broken anymore.” With a flick of Lockhart’s wand, a bandage wrapped around Harry’s still-open wound. It took Harry a moment to realize that Lockhart had removed the bones in his arm entirely, rather than fixing the problem. Harry wondered if magic could undo what Lockhart did. 

Hermione rushed over at that moment, gasping in shock at the fleshy, glove-like appearance of Harry’s arm. “What did you do?” Hermione accused.

“He didn’t want you to touch him,” Katie Bell agreed. The other members of the Quidditch team were nodding, murmuring in agreement. Harry wasn’t entirely sure what to do. His arm no longer hurt, but he felt incredibly off-center and his arm was still bleeding from where the bone had been sticking out. He felt the blood pulsing against the tight bandage that Lockhart had applied. 

McGonagall arrived at that moment, the Gryffindor Quidditch team at near-riot status against Lockhart and what he’d done. She turned and shot Lockhart a furious look. Then she looked at Harry and his teammates. “Get him to the hospital wing. Now,” she directed the Quidditch team.

“But Professor…” Angelina Johnson started.

“ _ Now _ , Miss Johnson. I will deal with Professor Lockhart, you have my word.” With that, McGonagall transfigured a rock into a stretcher, and Harry’s team and Hermione promptly helped him slide onto it, then gathered up the ends and took off for the school building. The last view of McGonagall Harry had was his Head of House turning towards Lockhart looking rather murderously.

In the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey fixed Harry’s open wound in half a second, but informed Harry that there was no quick and easy way to regrow bones. Harry was relieved to know that at least there  _ was _ a fix. Madam Pomfrey simply handed Harry a set of pyjamas “You’ll get your dose of Skele-Gro after dinner. I won’t have you skipping meals just because of a minor Quidditch accident,” Madam Pomfrey lectured.

Harry wisely requested that the long-sleeved pyjama shirt be transfigured into something with short sleeves, which Madam Pomfrey complied with after a moment of thought. By the time he changed, his team was back, changed out of their Quidditch gear, with Hermione and Neville in the lead. Harry felt a pang. Was Ron really so jealous that he wouldn’t see Harry when he was injured, even if they hadn’t been getting along recently?

“Harry!” Hermione rushed to his bedside. “Are you all right? Will Madame Pomfrey be able to fix the damage?”

Harry nodded and saw her face relax into an expression of relief. “After dinner, she said. It’s something called Skele-Gro.”

“That stuff’s painful,” George advised him. “I’m betting she’ll put you to sleep so you don’t have to feel most of it.”

“Seems likely,” Harry agreed.

They all talked for a while, Harry assuring everyone he would be fine, until Madam Pomfrey returned with Harry’s dinner and began shooing everyone else out of the hospital.

“Pardon me, Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione said, lagging behind the departing group. “With his dominant hand and arm injured, Harry might have problems eating. I could help him, if he’d like?”

Pomfrey looked at Harry, who blushed a little but nodded. Having his sister help him eat would be less embarrassing than the hospital matron. “Very well, Miss Granger. But you’re to find me directly after he’s finished, and you will leave him to sleep when I give him his potions.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Hermione agreed swiftly.

The second the hospital matron left the two of them alone, Hermione hit Harry in his good shoulder, hard. “You  _ idiot _ ,” she hissed in a low whisper. “What were you thinking, going after the snitch when that rogue bludger was after you? What did Wood teach you? To get the snitch or die trying? Are you  _ trying _ to get yourself killed?”

“Ow!” Harry protested. “Hermione, it’s not like that.”

“Oh? And what’s it like?” Hermione crossed her arms in front of her, frowning deeply as she waited for an answer.

“I didn’t want to let the team down,” Harry confessed softly. “And I knew if I could just get the snitch, the game would be over and the bludgers would be contained. Wood did tell me that if I needed to call it, they’d understand. But I didn’t want to be the reason Gryffindor lost  _ another _ game.”

Hermione sighed and picked up the fork on Harry’s dinner tray, slicing a chunk of chicken and handing over the fork to his left hand. It wasn’t that he couldn’t get food to his own mouth, just that trying to wield the fork was awkward. They traded the utensil back and forth for a bit in silence.

“I’m sorry, Hermione,” Harry said at last. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“I know, and I forgive you,” Hermione sighed. “Just… remember there are people that care about you, and not just because you’re the team Seeker, yeah?”

“Yeah. I will.”

Hermione was quiet for a while after that, and Harry focused on eating what she provided. When he was finished and he looked up at her again, he was surprised to see worry on her face and the glimmer of tears in her dark eyes.

“Hermione?” he asked, reaching out to touch her hand with his good one. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she replied with a sniffle, dashing the tears from her eyes with her free hand. “Just promise me you’ll be more careful, please? You’re my brother and I love you and I hate seeing you hurt,” she said in a torrent of words just barely above a whisper.

Harry pulled her in and she rested her head on his shoulder with a sigh. “I promise, Mia. I’ll be more careful. And… I… I love you too. Sister.”

Hermione wrapped her arms around Harry’s torso, carefully avoiding his injured arm, and hugged him gently. “Thank you.” She smiled. “I’m going to go get Madam Pomfrey for your potions. But I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Harry nodded. Others would probably be giving him a talking to. The AA members, for instance, Snape and McGonagall, and Hermione would probably tell her… their parents. It really hadn’t seemed like that big of a risk, but maybe it was. Distracted by his thoughts, he took his potions without complaint, and fell asleep.

Hours later, Harry woke up feeling the searing pain in his right arm. It took a moment for Harry to realize that his arm hadn’t been what woke him up, but instead it was a small, odd-looking creature sitting on his torso. The creature’s golf ball-sized eyes that were staring at him. Realizing he was awake, the creature jumped and tumbled off the bed. 

“Mister Harry Potter must be leaving Hogwarts, now the Chamber of Secrets is being opened. Mister Harry Potter is in danger,” the creature said quickly. “Dobby is being a bad house elf by being here.” Dobby started hitting his head full force against his bed frame. 

“Dobby! Dobby stop.” The creature froze. “Now, why would you stop me from getting to Hogwarts. Hogwarts is the safest place in our world.”

“Dobby is knowing that there is danger in the school,” Dobby said, a bit calmer this time.

“Dobby,” Harry said in a low voice, recovering from his shock. “I know I’m in danger, but so is everyone else.”

“Mister Harry Potter is especially in danger,” Dobby said. “Being who Mister Harry Potter is. He must promise to leave Hogwarts. Dobby spelled the bludger so Mister Potter is having an excuse to leave. Dobby is trying to find Mister Harry Potter at home but Dobby went to the wrong house, Dobby thinks. Dobby went to an empty Wizard house. Then Dobby tried to keep Mister Harry Potter getting to the school train but Dobby did not get there in time. But now Mister Harry Potter has his excuse! He must leave Hogwarts!”

“I can’t do that. My friends are here. I can’t leave knowing that they’re in danger,” Harry hissed. There was a noise just outside the ward and Harry looked up to see what it was. When he looked back down, Dobby was gone.

Footsteps approached at a sedate pace and Professor Snape peered through the curtains. “Mr. Potter?” the professor asked.

Harry yawned. “‘Lo Professor. You guarding me tonight?”

“For the next two hours,” Professor Snape drawled, casting silencing spells on Harry’s curtains, just to be on the safe side.

“Are you going to lecture me on taking too much of a risk?” Harry asked. 

“Your mother, Lily, would want me to,” Professor Snape agreed. “Your father, on the other hand, would be crowing about your Quidditch prowess and would not stop for a week.”

“You’re not very fond of my father, are you?” Harry asked, more curious than judgmental. “He did something mean to you, I’m guessing.”

Professor Snape sighed heavily. “Things at Hogwarts were extremely divided during the war. Purebloods and half-bloods took sides very early on. Your father’s best friend, Sirius Black, was supposed to have been sorted into Slytherin but ended up in Gryffindor. I made a comment after we were all sorted, trying to prove myself to my housemates as I was the son of a disowned pureblood and a muggle. Your father took extreme offense to the things I said, and… rightly so. From that point forward, your father and I were always enemies. There were times your father and his friends bullied and humiliated me, and then I bullied and humiliated them right back. It was the times, Harry. People were dying, and being forced to take sides. It doesn’t excuse it, but that’s what it was. My current disdain for your father is simply… unresolved anger. He was only twenty-one when he died. Neither of us were given the time to resolve things as mature adults.”

Harry thought about it for a long moment. “Would talking about it help?”

Snape smirked. “Perhaps, though I am not about to discuss such things with James Potter’s twelve-year-old son.” Harry yawned again. “You should go back to sleep.”

At that moment, there was a huge commotion outside as many footsteps rushed into the hospital wing. Snape raised a finger to his lips. 

“Another student…” came Madam Pomfrey’s voice.

“He must have snuck out of bed to see Potter,” McGonagall said. “Mr. Creevey has been following him…” Harry suddenly felt incredibly guilty. Colin Creevey was a Gryffindor first year who had been following him around taking photos of him since the sorting. He kept explaining that he wanted to show his dad what life at Hogwarts was like and all Harry really wanted was to be left alone. But still, if not for him, Colin wouldn’t be petrified right now. 

“Is it possible that he could have taken a photograph of the culprit?” Flitwick asked. 

There was a click as the camera was opened and the acrid stench of ruined film hit Harry’s nose. “Albus, what does this mean?” Madam Pomfrey asked.

“It means,” Professor Dumbledore said. “The Chamber of Secrets has indeed been opened. And it is looking more and more likely that Severus’ suspicions are true.”

“Should we send the children home?” McGonagall’s voice was deeply concerned. 

“I am not certain it would help the situation,” Dumbledore replied. “Come, let’s continue this discussion in the staff room. We wouldn’t want to wake Poppy’s patients.”

Harry listened for as long as the professors were in earshot, doing his best to commit to memory everything he said. He wished desperately for a way to tell Hermione what he’d heard, but he knew he would have to wait.

Once out of earshot, Snape began speaking again. “I should allow you more sleep, if you can muster it. I know you have a tendency to worry about things, but Harry… allow us to worry about this one this time. This is  _ not _ your fault.”

“I… I’ll try, sir.”

“I suppose that, based on your recent history, your efforts are adequate.”

When Harry was finally released from the hospital wing, he went straight to the hidden room in the library. As he expected, Hermione was there along with their other friends and everyone had concerned expressions.

“Harry! How’s your arm?” Neville asked when he spotted the new arrival.

“Aches a little but I have all my bones back,” Harry responded, instinctively opening and closing his hand.

“I cannot believe that oaf, Lockhart,” Draco said. “He’s the blasted Defense professor and he can’t fix a simple broken bone?”

“That isn’t important,” Harry said, and proceeded to tell them what he’d overheard in the hospital wing. 

“If Professor Dumbledore thought Professor Snape’s theory might be correct, that means  _ our _ theory might be correct,” Hermione said with a frown. 

Harry nodded and sighed, adding, “We’re already doing everything we can, though. We’ll just have to keep at it. But I really wished I’d had a way to contact you, Hermione. I was sure you’d remember more of it than I do.”

“Well…” Hermione began slowly, ducking her head shyly. “I’ve kinda been working on that already.”

“A way to communicate?” Luna asked, following quickly.

Hermione nodded and handed around a collection of fake galleons she’d asked the twins to buy her from the joke shop before Halloween. “I’ve been doing some extra charms work with Professor Flitwick, and between that and some research of my own… I came up with these.” Everyone looked at the coins in their hands with confused expressions. “They’re charmed so that if you hold your thumb over the face, think of a short message to send, and then whisper  _ nuntius _ , it will send it out to all the other coins. The other coins heat up to let the holder know there’s a message. You have to hold it in your hand and say  _ amicitia _ to reveal the message. It prints around the top edge of the coin.”

“Bloody hell, you really are  _ brilliant _ !” Draco was the first to get over his shock and respond. “That’s amazing!”

Hermione blushed.

“So it’s like a muggle pager?” Harry said. “That’s pretty cool.”

“Yes, but it shows more than just numbers. You can’t send a long message, but you can send a short one,” Hermione explained. She placed her thumb over the coin, thought a moment, then whispered the spell trigger.

Everyone else’s coins got warm very quickly, and when activated the message read, “I haven’t tested the range yet, but they do all work. -HG”

“Perhaps we should have nicknames within our group?” Luna suggested airily. “Can you modify the charms to do that instead of your initials, Hermione?”

Hermione tilted her head in thought. “I think so. And that’s a really great idea, Luna. It wouldn’t do for Draco and Theo to walk around with a coin showing my initials, after all.”

Luna studied everyone closely for a few seconds before she began to dance around the room, giggling. “Harry should be Apollo, and Hermione, Athena,” she laughed in her airy, girlish voice. “Theo will be Lugus and Neville will be Esus.” Those so named glanced at each other, with Theo and Hermione breaking into matching grins as they realized how appropriate Luna’s naming was so so far. “Draco shall be Rahu.”

“And you, Luna?” Neville asked, his tone tolerant.

“Why, I’m Pandia of course,” she said with a smile.

“Of course,” Theo said with a laugh, then explained to the group who each person was with Hermione nodding agreement. Harry was impressed. The names fit extremely well.

“Do… do you think we should give one to Professors Snape and McGonagall?” Hermione asked. “I have to adjust the charms for identification; I could make two more at the same time…”

“Might not be a bad idea,” Draco mused.

Theo chuckled. “If we’re following Luna’s naming conventions, Snape would be Hades.”

“And McGonagall could be Hecate,” Hermione added, knowing their head of house would appreciate the Celtic deity reference more than her Greek or Draco’s Hindu.

Hermione wrote the names and their aliases down on a spare bit of parchment, then the conversation turned back to the Quidditch game. “You going for some kind of injury record there Potter?” Theo teased. “Trying to injure every part of your body before you leave school?”

“It was just a compound fracture,” Harry groaned. “If Lockhart hadn’t removed my bones it could have been healed in two seconds.”

“It really is a wonder that that man did everything he says he did,” Draco said, shaking his head.

Neville looked at Draco. “ _ What did you say _ ?” he demanded in a tone Neville had never used before.

“I said It’s a wonder that man accomplished everything he did,” Draco repeated.

“No, you said ‘ _ says he did. _ ’ Is there any evidence that Lockhart actually did the things in his books?” Neville pointed out.

Everyone stopped what they were doing. “Neville has a point,” Theo agreed. “There’s no proof Lockhart did anything. It’s all just hearsay.”

Hermione frowned. “The books certainly  _ sound _ like he was the one who did the things in them. But since he wrote them, it wouldn’t be all that hard to make it sound that way. But the stories would’ve had to come from somewhere.”

“It’d be easy enough to claim a story like that as your own, especially if something happened to the person who actually did it,” Draco noted thoughtfully. “But it’d take a pretty dark witch or wizard to do it, and they’d break about twenty laws in the process. Messing with another wizard’s memories isn’t lightly done. In almost every circumstance, it has to be done by a ministry official, because it can easily go wrong.”

Hermione hissed a breath between her teeth. “I want a class on Wizarding laws. And society. How many muggle-borns break laws by accident and never know it? Or offend some pureblood because they don’t know the expected protocol?”

“I wonder if we could set something up,” Draco mused. “It’s actually not a bad idea, so the Professors might get behind some sort of club… there are rumors of Lockhart trying to set up a Dueling Club. Why can’t we have one on Wizarding laws and protocol?”

“Harry and I can’t be the only ones who’d want to learn about it,” Hermione said. “There may not be as many of us muggle-born or muggle-raised, but there are enough. Even just an Introduction to the Wizarding World information session would be useful. I don’t know why they don’t offer such things for first years.”

“We should go to McGonagall and ask what she thinks. She’s the Deputy Head.”

“And Head of one of the two Houses with the most muggle-borns.” 

“But for now, we should get back to studying…” Hermione said. “Term exams are coming up soon.”

Harry and Hermione were startled when their next private lesson was with Snape alone. As soon as they entered, he locked and warded the room, then gestured them into seats. Once they sat, he set a pair of potion vials on the table and sat directly across from them.

“You asked, early on, if it were possible to make you truly blood siblings, so the protections on Harry would be upheld. I told you it was, and so I have brewed you the potion,” Snape explained, very clearly and precisely. “However, I would be… remiss… if I allowed you to use them without full knowledge of the effects.”

Hermione glanced at Harry, then nodded. They both paid close attention to Snape. “Please, then, Professor, tell us what these effects are.”

Snape regarded them both closely for a moment, as if ensuring their attention, and then began to speak. “The potion will indeed make you siblings by blood as well as by love. Moreso, it will make you siblings by Magic. Any magical debts incurred in the name of either family will belong to you both. Potter, this means Granger will have access to your family Vaults at Gringotts as well as the family manor and properties. It also means that should anything happen to either of you before you have children of your own, the other will carry both magical family lines. You will effectively both be Grangers and Potters in equal measure. Miss Granger, being Muggleborn, does not yet have an established family magical trait. It is most likely one will emerge over time as she hones her talents, and being the first it will likely be strong. Mr. Potter, if you had not already guessed, the Potters excel at defensive magics. Should you take this step, Miss Granger will likely acquire some small measure of this talent as well.”

Silence fell as the three considered the information given for quite some time. “So you’re saying that if something should happen to one of us, the other’s children will inherit one family magic or the other, but none of them will have both?”

“Quite probably, though it is very hard to say. This is an extremely rare occurrence, and it is not well documented,” Snape replied evenly.

“Are there any risks to us, our magic, or our families if we move ahead with this?” Harry asked next.

“No,” Snape replied. “This affects only the two of you, and future generations to some extent. Miss Granger’s muggle parents will remain unaffected, as they are not in themselves magical.”

The two youngsters looked at each other for a long moment, each reading the other’s intent in their eyes. Then they nodded together. “We accept these responsibilities,” they chorused, grinning at their unity.

Snape nodded and produced a pinpoint-sharp silver knife from a drawer. “Then you must each willingly place a drop of your own blood in the other’s potion and drink them together.”

Harry pricked his finger first and handed over the knife as a drop of blood pooled on his fingertip. He let it drop into the opened vial as Hermione pricked her own finger and did the same. Then they each picked up the vial containing their blood and exchanged them.

“To being siblings,” Harry said softly.

“Family. Forever,” Hermione agreed. They both quaffed the potions quickly, though the taste was actually rather… pleasant. Waves of magical energy swirled around them, and they felt a family bond fall into place between them. They both smiled, feeling as if they’d found something they’d never known they were missing. A hole inside Harry had been, not filled but healed over. His family magic had someone to connect to again, and it felt  _ good _ .

“The wards that surrounded the Dursleys’ house will have been transferred. I shall inform them of this,” Snape said. From how he said it, it appeared he was going to enjoy informing them of the change.

“Thank you, Sir,” Harry was the first to speak, turning to Snape.

“Yes, thank you, Professor.”

Snape nodded. “You are welcome. Now, then, shall we proceed to tonight’s lesson?”

Harry was proud when he didn’t have put his name down for people staying on over the holidays. He was proud to know that he had a family. “I received an invitation from Hermione to come for Christmas,” he said for show. He saw Ron glaring at him and he rolled his eyes. Ron needed to get over his jealousy issues. If Ron wanted him - or them - to spend time with him, over the hols in particular, all he had to do was ask. But all he ever did was complain about it.

“What’s so great about spending Christmas with a bunch of muggles?” Ron demanded.

Harry knew he had to watch his words very carefully around Ron, so he responded with, “I grew up with muggles, remember? And I’d much rather spend the hols with Hermione’s parents than the Dursleys. Or stay here with Snape and Dumbledore!”

“Hermione’s house is probably full of books and nothing fun. You could have come home with me!” Ron grumbled.

“Your parents didn’t invite me. Hermione’s did,” Harry replied, trying to stay calm, but his temper was creeping upwards steadily. He could only thank God or Merlin or whomever that Hermione was with McGonagall, proposing her ‘intro to the wizarding world’ seminar for first years - and anyone in upper years who wanted to learn about it.

“First she steals all your fun time in school, and now she steals your holiday too,” Ron groused. “Stupid bloody swot. I dunno why you wanna spend time with her anyway. She’s just a bossy know-it-all who doesn’t know when to keep out of other people’s business!”

“A bossy know-it-all who at least makes sure we pass our classes!” Harry retorted angrily. “So she likes to take charge. Goodness knows someone needs to! You certainly don’t!”

“Bloody bint, must’ve put a spell on you,” Ron seethed. “Now you’re defending her, even! And she’s just a bloody swot of a girl! She should be learning household charms and not researching dangerous magical beasts!”

The entire common room stopped what they were doing and stared at Ron. Several girls looked furious at him, including Ginny. Ron was too angry to notice their glares, though. He just kept on. Harry cut him off. “Ron, have you forgotten who saved you from Devil’s Snare last year? Who figured out what Quirrell was after? It was Hermione.”

“We could have figured it out ourselves! We don’t need some stupid bossy girl to ‘help’ on our adventures! We were best mates! That should mean more than some. Stupid. Bint,” Ron sneered.

Harry drew back his fist, his face flushed red with fury. Before he could take a swing at Ron, though, one of the Weasley twins grabbed him from behind and pulled him backwards. The other - Harry couldn’t tell them apart the way Hermione could - grabbed Ron, deliberately clapping a hand over his mouth to shut him up. Harry pushed to get out of the hold but found that the Weasley twins were both stronger than him and apparently fairly well-versed in muggle fighting, as they were able to counter his struggles to get away. 

Ginny bore down on her brothers, wand out, and hit Ron with several mild stinging jinxes and a couple of hexes Harry didn’t recognize, her face almost as red as her hair. “So girls are good for nothing unless you want them around?” Ginny demanded furiously. “So Harry’s not allowed to have friends that aren’t you? You selfish, pig-headed, arrogant arsehole!” she screamed at him.

The portrait door opened, silent due to the yelling. Hermione stepped in, then froze in shock at the commotion in front of her. “What in the world is going on here?” she demanded. When no one answered, she looked at the twins. “Fred, why are you holding onto Harry?”

“Trust me, Hermione, you don’t want to know,” Fred replied coldly, glaring at his younger brother. Harry stopped trying to get to Ron and Fred finally let him go as Hermione’s presence seemed to calm the younger boy. Ron, by contrast, only seemed to get angrier and he struggled in George’s grip, words muffled by the hand over his mouth.

Harry ran straight to Hermione, grabbed her hand, and tugged her with him out of the common room. They made it all the way to their hidden library room before Harry pulled Hermione into a crushing hug.

“Harry?” Hermione asked tentatively, hugging him back since that’s what he seemed to need at the moment.

“Ron’s an arse. I don’t want him near you again. I don’t want him near  _ us _ .”

“What happened?”

Harry sighed. “He’s jealous. He wants ‘famous Harry Potter, his best mate’ back. But I’m not that person, and I never wanted to be. I’d rather just be your brother and a Hogwarts student. Ron said some really nasty things about you, and no I won’t tell you what,” Harry forestalled the question. “I don’t want to upset you, too.”

“Okay,” Hermione accepted his assertion for the moment. “So the twins stepped in before it could get uglier? Remind me to thank them later.”

“That reminds me - how do you tell them apart so easily?” Harry asked, curiosity calming his anger.

Hermione shrugged. “It’s the little things. They’re not really quite identical, especially  their personalities. George’s hair is a shade darker, Fred has more freckles, those kinds of things.”

“But you’re the only one who can see it!”

Laughing, Hermione shook her head. “I’m not. Ginny can tell, too.”

“So maybe it’s a girl thing?” Harry chuckled.

“Maybe I just pay attention,” Hermione teased. She grew serious. “I’m sorry Ron wasn’t who you thought he was.”

Harry shrugged, looking down. “It’s funny, Ron seemed so nice at first, but he turned out to be a big bully. And Draco seemed to be a big bully, but he’s actually really nice.”

“Sometimes first impressions are lasting ones, but that doesn’t always mean they’re correct,” she answered gently. “But just because you can’t be friends with Ron doesn’t mean you’re alone. You have me, and Draco, and the whole AA group. Plus the twins and the Quidditch team.”

“Is it wrong that I wish Ron would act his age?” Harry asked rhetorically. 

Hermione answered anyway. “Ron does act his age. Remember, abused kids, especially those who raise themselves, tend to act more mature than they would be otherwise because they’ve had to deal with more. That’s also probably likely why you get along with Neville and Draco better. Their own experiences have matured them to a degree as well.”

“And what about you?” Harry smiled gently at his sister.

She blushed and mumbled something about supportive parents and high intelligence that he didn’t quite make out. Rather than asking her to repeat herself, though, he resolved to ask Jean when they got home.

Home. Having one was still a thought that made Harry smile every time it came to mind. He had a Home, a place where he was always safe and cared for. And a family, too. Parents and an amazing sister. Ron had always complained about his, how cramped it was, how overbearing his family was. How he was stuck in the shadows of his older brothers. How had Harry not seen that Ron didn’t understand that Harry had no home, no family? The twins got it, certainly. Every time Ron would complain to Harry with the twins in earshot, Harry had caught the twins giving Ron looks of  _ ‘are you kidding me?’  _ The twins seemed to understand that everything that Harry said or didn’t say about his blood relatives indicated abuse.

Harry didn’t blame them for not saying anything. At fourteen, Harry was certain they probably didn’t know how to handle it. But they had seemed relieved when they saw Harry with Hermione in Diagon Alley. It was proof to Harry that Ron was the outlier of the Weasley clan. After all, Harry remembered that the twins had helped him get his trunk on the train before anyone knew he was Harry Potter. They’d been nice to him, an ickle firstie, and hadn’t even pranked him. 

“We should probably head back to the common room,” Hermione broke into his thoughts. “It’s almost curfew.”

Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think I can stand sharing a room with Ron tonight.”

“We could sleep on the couches in the common room? I’ll stay with you if you like,” Hermione offered. “I can grab the blankets and pillows off my bed.”

“We’d probably just get in trouble, but I’m willing to try.”

It turned out that they didn’t have to risk it. When they returned to the common room, just minutes before curfew, the room was empty except for the Weasley twins.

“Fred, George,” Hermione greeted them pleasantly. “Thank you for stepping in before the earlier situation got too out of hand.” The twins nodded and George reached out to Hermione for a hug. She gave him one, and then to Fred as well. 

“We’ve already owled Mum about Ronniekins’ behavior,” George told them. “We’re pretty sure he’ll be hearing from her in the near future. Percy the Prefect has already given him a lecture about how Weasleys are supposed to act.” George puffed himself up for a moment, a clear caricature of a pureblood.

“But we also thought you wouldn’t want to sleep in the same room as him, Harry,” Fred continued.

“So we thought we’d invite you up to ours,” George said.

“We can transfigure you a bed, and one of the elves will bring your things if you ask,” Fred finished.

Harry looked at Hermione, who gave him a gentle smile and a nod. “It’s a good option,” she said softly.

Harry nodded. “Thank you,” he said to the twins, who reeled him in for a brotherly hug.

“Come on, then. Before the prefects start making rounds of the dorms.”

Hermione bid them all goodnight and headed up the steps to the girls’ dorms. The twins led the way up the stairs towards their own dorm.

“Just so you know, no Gryffindor will help Ron remove the hexes Ginny put on him,” George said in a low voice. “And we’re pretty sure that the professors will ask him why he got them in the first place if he goes to them to take them off.”

“I don’t think most of Gryffindor wants to talk to him anyway after what he said.”

“Especially the girls.”

Harry let the twins’ chatter wash over him and only moments later, they entered the fourth year dorm. Lee Jordan was still up, reading the recent version of  _ Which Broomstick? _ . “Hey Harry,” Lee said with a sympathetic smile. “Okay there?”

Kenneth Towler, the other Gryffindor fourth year, didn’t look too pleased to be sharing the dorm with a second year, but he didn’t say anything.

“Yeah,” Harry replied to Lee. “Not sure I can sleep in my own bed without Ron hexing me in my sleep, but I’m fine. And Hermione’s fine. I… I didn’t tell her about all the things Ron said. She gets enough of that crap from the Slytherins.”

“My Mum’s a muggle-born,” Towler volunteered, surprising Harry. “Every Christmas we go to my grandparents. It’s not bad… weird, but not bad. Some of the things they’ve invented would be dead useful here. Like video games? I got a Gameboy TM for Christmas a few years ago. Wish I could bring it here...”

Harry smiled. “Sometimes I wish I could bring a digital scale for Potions class,” he offered in response. “Hermione and I both think it took us forever to get used to quills instead of pens.”

The boys quickly settled down and got ready for bed. Lee introduced Harry to Mimsie, one of the Hogwarts house-elves. She was nothing at all like Dobby, as far as Harry could tell, and she was perfectly happy to quietly pop into the second year dorms, retrieve Harry’s trunk and school things, and pop back with them.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the night before...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, thank you to everyone who left us comments and feedback last chapter. The response was awesome, and we greatly appreciate it!  
> We know we're a little late posting, but life happens. Thanks for your patience!
> 
> Up next... what happens when the school rumor mill starts to run?

**Chapter 5**

Thanks to the twins’ offer to let him sleep in their dorm, Harry ended up sleeping much better than he’d anticipated. In the morning, Hermione was waiting for him in the common room as always so they could all go to breakfast. The word had spread around Gryffindor tower, since a sort of ‘honor guard’ comprised of the Gryffindor chasers and three Gryffindor female seventh years escorted them down to breakfast. 

Everyone from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin stared at Harry and Hermione when they came in. It seemed that word had spread about them and Ron beyond Gryffindor house. “Hey Granger!” Draco called, sending them a flash of a sympathetic look. “Is Potty your boyfriend now?”

“Shove off, Malfoy!” Harry snapped. They took a seat at the Gryffindor table across from one another; Neville, Fred, George, and Lee sat around Harry while the Gryffindor second-year girls sat around Hermione, with the honor guard bracketing them in solidarity. The Great Hall settled back into the regular buzz of conversations, and Harry and Hermione relaxed into having breakfast with their friends. The Gryffindor girls, even the seventh years, were clearly regarding Harry differently. Harry wondered, for the first time, how women were regarded in the Wizarding world. Were Ron’s attitudes that women should be housewives common among wizards?

As if thoughts about Ron’s attitudes summoned him, Ron entered the room with Seamus and Dean. The mood of the room immediately changed. The entire school went silent, more than one female student glaring at him. Ron, Seamus, and Dean found empty spots to sit and suddenly found them taken. They tried twice more before Angelina Johnson stood up and told Ron. “Other end of the table, Weasley. No one wants you near them.”

Ron looked to his siblings for help, but none of them complied. Ron scowled at them and then at Harry, then stormed off to the end of the table.

Conversations slowly started again. Not ten minutes later, the mail arrived. “Crikey, Mum sent Ron a Howler,” George exclaimed. “Things are about to get loud if I know Mum…”

Ron’s nearest neighbors at the table edged further away, not wanting to be in range of the bright red Howler. For a second, Harry thought the Howler caused an explosion. The next moment, his ears registered speech.

“RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY, OF ALL THE LETTERS I COULD RECEIVE FROM YOUR BROTHERS, I CERTAINLY DID NOT EXPECT THIS ONE. I RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THAT! HOW DARE YOU BELITTLE HERMIONE FOR BEING INTELLIGENT AND FEMALE! HOW DARE YOU SUGGEST THAT SHE PUT A SPELL ON POOR HARRY! IF YOU HAD WANTED YOUR FRIENDS TO VISIT FOR CHRISTMAS, GET OFF YOUR LAZY ARSE AND  _ ASK _ THEM! NOT THAT I THINK THEY’D BE WILLING TO COME AT THIS POINT. STRAIGHTEN UP, RONALD, OR WE’LL SHIP YOU OFF TO CHARLIE TO SHOVEL DRAGON DUNG FOR THE SUMMER!”

The Howler then blew a long and messy raspberry at Ron before bursting into flames and leaving ash on his breakfast plate.

Silence reigned across the Great Hall, students and teachers alike. Then the whispers started, and some laughter. Ron’s face was redder than his hair as he stormed out of the Great Hall, laughter growing in his wake.

“Wow,” Hermione whispered across the table to Harry as the furor rose around them. “Aren’t you glad Mum can only send us ‘I’m disappointed in you’ written letters after seeing that?”

Harry nodded his agreement, and then suddenly froze.  _ Mum _ . Jean did, really, feel like his Mum. Every week she sent him a letter asking how he’d been, cheering his successes, comforting him if he failed. He wrote her back, filling her in on everything he could write in a letter, omitting the AA and other things for the sake of safety. 

He felt a pang of guilt. What would his own mother say? She’d never been ‘Mum.’ Was he replacing her? Could someone he didn’t even remember be replaced? He thought about the care package Jean had sent when he and Hermione had caught the cold that had been going around.  _ I don’t know if I trust this ‘Pepper Up Potion’, but I know nothing cures a cold quite like Mum’s chicken noodle soup _ . It had been good too, once a warming charm had been applied. Harry was sure if he had gotten sick over summer holidays, he’d been wrapped up in warm blankets and doted on like Aunt Petunia doted on Dudley. When he’d been at the Dursleys, he’d worked through any illness he had.

He remembered one year when he’d gotten the flu, and his fever was so high he was passing out multiple times a day, but he was still expected to get the chores done.

Hermione watched the stricken look take over Harry’s brilliant eyes and she found his hand on the table, squeezing tightly. “Harry. Harry,” she said a little louder until his eyes focused on her. “Take a deep breath. Good, now another. Now, eat your breakfast. We’ll talk later, okay?”

Harry nodded and picked up his fork, mechanically eating his breakfast. The hand Hermione held remained tightly twined with hers, though. Hermione shook her head and picked up her spoon, glad she had practice eating left-handed while she wrote with her right.

Going to their meeting place after classes was certainly  _ interesting _ .

Hermione, Harry, and Neville were all working quietly when Theo and Draco came in. “So,” Draco said in an idle tone. “Apparently last night was rather eventful in the Gryffindor Common Room…” Draco’s eyes sparkled with interest.

“If only we had some friends to tell us the truth of what happened,” Theo said sarcastically, smiling broadly.

“Ron was a jerk, like always, I just had had enough,” Harry said, shrugging. “It’s no big deal.”

“Is that why all your stuff is missing from the dorms?” Neville asked. “Ron was pretty angry when he figured out that it was gone after lunch today.”

Draco and Theo looked wide-eyed at Harry, who shrugged. “I stayed with the fourth year boys last night. An elf brought my things.”

“Merlin, what did Weasley say to warrant that reaction?” Draco asked.

Hermione sighed. “Harry doesn’t want me to know. Should I step out so you can at least talk to someone about it?” She was reluctant to stay in the dark about the situation, but if it made Harry feel better… she’d allow it. For now.

Harry sighed resignedly. “Someone’s bound to tell you anyway, with the Howler… I was hoping people wouldn’t make as big a deal about this as they are… Ron was upset that I’m going to Hermione’s for the holidays because it’s, well… home... “ he shifted awkwardly for a moment then continued. “He started going on about how boring muggles are and how Hermione’s taking up all my time. He called her a lot of really mean names which I’m  _ not _ repeating, accused her of putting a spell on me to make me be her friend, then basically said that because she was a girl she should be researching household charms instead of dangerous magical beasts…”

Draco whistled, long and low. “No wonder… A bunch of Slytherin 6th and 7th year girls were talking at lunch about what they’re going to do to Weasley after the holiday.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “With that kind of chauvinistic, misogynistic attitude, he’d better hope his mummy will take care of him forever because he’s certainly never going to get a girlfriend let alone a wife!”

“Actually, women have gravitated towards the research of magical beasts and beings for quite a while,” Neville offered. “Some think it’s because maternal instincts are maternal instincts, no matter the species,” he added with a teasing grin, though he was partly serious. “Certain magical beasts trust women more on instincts any way, like unicorns.”

Hermione sniffed. “While I’m sure that’s all well and good, I was actually doing research on basilisks.”

“Basilisks? Why?” Theo looked confused as he asked the question everyone but Harry seemed to want the answer to.

“We’ve got a theory,” Harry said, grinning at Hermione for borrowing one of her favorite phrases. “About the Chamber of Secrets.”

Theo, Neville, and Draco all immediately sat forward. “What?”

Harry hesitated. “This doesn’t get repeated,” he clarified. “Not anywhere but here.” All of them nodded, “We think the creature attacking students could be a basilisk.”

“WHAT?” shrieked Draco.

“It makes sense,” Hermione replied calmly. “The fact that Harry has heard a voice shouting threats when all I’ve heard is a hissing sound, the fact that it seems to be traveling through the walls or ceilings, and the fact that it petrified Mrs. Norris and poor Colin Creevy… and though we think Colin saw it through the lens of his camera, and thus indirectly, the film was destroyed.”

“Why does Harry hearing a voice…” Draco started. Then he went totally still. “You’re a  _ parselmouth _ ?” he squeeked. Theo jerked back and Neville’s jaw dropped

“He couldn’t be,” Neville said, equally shocked. “There hasn’t been a parselmouth in this school for something like fifty years.”

“I know what you mean, but the boa constrictor I met in a zoo in Surrey kept answering my questions…” Harry said. It’d taken a while, but he’d gotten over the fact that if people found out, most students would think he was the Heir of Slytherin.

“That’s actually wicked cool,” Theo said, grinning. “I wish I was a parselmouth.”

“So… basilisk in the school… because that’s not terrifying or anything…” Draco breathed. “And they’re not closing down the school because then whoever was doing it would leave too…”

“The teachers and prefects know,” Hermione explained. “They have mirrors to check around corners because then they’d get petrified rather than instantly killed, but we’re still trying to logic out where the entrance would be.”

“How would you even fight a basilisk?” Neville asked. “Don’t they have skin as thick as a dragon? So most spells would just bounce off?”

“Hence the research,” Hermione answered in a wry tone. “The crow of a rooster will kill one, but Hagrid’s have all been found dead.”

“Could you order one?” Theo suggested. “Smuggle it in? Pass it to someone we trust?”

“It’s possible to get a rooter,” Hermione hedged. “But roosters crow at all hours, eat a lot, and are hard to maintain in this sort of environment. Keeping something like that private is almost impossible. And if we left it by Hagrid’s, it most likely would end up dead like the rest.”

“The trouble is, since I’m supposedly the first parselmouth in fifty years, whomever is opening the Chamber could be someone bewitched,” Harry explained. “I trust you three because, well honestly Draco and Theo are too obvious as choices.”

“Plus if we were an Heir of Slytherin we’d be shouting from the rooftops,” Draco explained.

“And Neville has an alibi for the entire Halloween feast,” Hermione said. “Since he was sitting with us.”

“If someone is being possessed or Imperiused into opening the Chamber, maybe it’s someone the Heir would consider disposable?” Neville suggested. “I mean, maybe it’s not a pureblood at all, or maybe it’s someone who would be called a Blood Traitor..”

“Perhaps. We did tell Professors Snape and McGonagall our theory about the basilisk,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “So I’m sure someone is looking into who as well as how the Chamber is being opened.. Perhaps instead of researching basilisks, I should be researching ancient artifacts or weapons that can kill beasts like a basilisk or a dragon. Though I’m not sure how we’d go about acquiring one even if we knew what to look for.”

Theo rubbed his hands together and grinned. “There’s nothing quite like a good research party!” The other boys groaned, but Hermione chuckled and nodded. “And if we don’t turn up anything here, Draco, Neville and I can probably all check our family library over the hols,” Theo finished.

“Speaking of families and holidays, Harry, we’re going to have to explain to Mum and Dad what’s been going on this term. And we may have to convince them to let us come back,” Hermione said solemnly.

“Really? Why?” Harry queried, startled. He didn’t want to tell anyone anything about what had happened during the term. 

Hermione rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Mum will know something’s up the moment we get off the train. And, well, the school can’t possibly be the safest place in the wizarding world if there’s a giant snake that can petrify or kill with a look, now, can it? Especially from a normal - Muggle - point of view.”

“You’re right. We probably ought to tell them about the potion too,” Harry said in a low voice.

“What potion?” Draco and Theo asked simultaneously. Hermione just sighed and looked at Harry, since he was the one who let the proverbial cat out of the bag.

“Well… I mean… I know the magical world doesn’t have good child protection laws,” Harry started. “But the muggle world’s a bit better. When Hermione figured out I was being abused, her parents, well they basically took legal custody of me in the muggle world.”

“Makes sense,” Theo said, nodding. Harry felt a pang of guilt. He was safe while Draco and Theo weren’t. 

“You two have gotten a lot closer since last year, and not in the ‘friends’ way,” Draco said. “You two watch out for each other like siblings would.”

“Right,” Harry said awkwardly. “Well… it turns out Dumbledore was the one who placed me with the Dursleys... knowing they’d hate me. Something about my mother’s blood relatives and protection wards. So to protect us… to make sure I can’t be placed back with the Dursleys…”

“You did a blood bond,” Draco concluded, grinning. “That’s a solid, logical solution. Siblings have a stronger legal standing than extended family. And it’s mutually beneficial, since it raises Hermione’s status.”

“How so?” Hermione asked.

“If you haven’t noticed, we have a paternalistic legal system. Heads of the family are always male,” Draco explained. ”Rather sexist, if you ask me, and in most pureblood families the women call the shots anyway so why officially the men make the decisions - That’s neither here nor there. Anyway, you, Hermione Granger, are now the sister of the Head of one of the oldest magical families in Britain.” Hermione gave Draco a skeptical look.

“Technically and magically speaking, you’re now considered to be a half-blood rather than a muggle-born. Or will be as soon as the information is public,” Theo added. “While the sacred blood purists still wouldn’t consider you marriageable material, many of the lesser noble wizarding families would.”

“Harry’s also going to be responsible for your dowry,” Draco teased, snickering. “And negotiating your marriage contract, if such a thing is needed.”

Harry shrugged. “We were warned beforehand that she now has access to all the Potter vaults and properties, and may inherit the family magical traits if I should die. By blood, by magic, and by… by love, Hermione is my sister. I always wished for a sister or brother, and now I have one. The best sister any bloke could ask for.” Harry trailed off, blushing as he got a little sappy. Hermione just smiled at him.

“Aww, Harry, that’s really sweet,” Neville cooed teasingly.

Hermione grinned. “And I have a little brother who doesn’t complain about me being a bossy swot.”

“You’re the elder sibling?” Theo asked, startled.

“Yes. I turned thirteen in September. I got my Hogwarts letter slightly less than three weeks after the term had started, so I had to wait for the next year,”  Hermione explained.

“I think you just might be the oldest of the second years,” Neville mused. “Not that it really matters all that much.”

“Wait, in September? I don’t remember seeing you get gifts or anything,” Draco protested.

“We were barely on speaking terms in September, Draco,” Hermione replied wryly. “Why would you have cared?”

Draco chewed his bottom lip. “To be honest, despite my father’s demands that I beat you on our next set of exams, I’d always wanted to be friends. You… challenge me. I just was saying I didn’t notice any birthday party for you from Weasel and Harry.”

“I didn’t know either,” Neville added. “I’m sorry, Hermione. I… should have been a better friend than that.”

Hermione blushed, shaking her head. “It’s okay, Neville. My friends have never… never given me a birthday party. I don’t think many people even know when it is. I did get a few gifts, though, including two from Harry.”

Harry frowned. “I’m sorry Hermione, I didn’t even think,” Harry stammered. “I mean… I’ve never had one… even the one your parents threw this summer was new... it just didn’t occur to me.”

“That’s it. We’re so throwing you both birthday parties next year,” Draco proclaimed. “Even if it has to be here, in secret. We’ll get the elves to make you a cake and everything!”

Hermione blushed deeper. “I… you don’t have to do that for me.”

“No, but we want to. You’re our friends,” Theo soothed her. “You’re trusting us with so much more than just your pasts, but your present and your future. A birthday celebration is nothing in comparison.”

“But she’s right that she’s my big sister,” Harry said, turning the subject back to spare Hermione’s blushes. “She’s nearly a year older than me. I was basically born in August… six weeks later term starts.”

“I think you’re the youngest among the second years,” Theo said. 

“Only technically,” Neville said. “I’m one day older. I think Harry and I had our first birthday party together, actually. Gran has pictures.”

“Really? Do you think you could bring me copies, please?” Harry pleaded. “I… have almost nothing of my parents’.”

“Of course. I’ll ask Gran when I get home.”

“You know, in the old days in wizarding families, that kind of birth rate was pretty common,” Theo said thoughtfully. “Children only a year or so apart, maybe two at most.”

“Didn’t last in the Muggle world. It’s too hard on the women; most of them died young, having kids like that,” Hermione scoffed.

Theo shook his head. “Magical healing after childbirth negated a lot of that, once the right spells and potions were developed. Nanny elves took very good care of both mother and children, too.”

“Interesting,” Hermione mused. “But you said in the old days. I presume it’s not anymore?”

Draco shook his head. “My Mum always wanted another kid, but apparently she can’t. They finally stopped trying.”

Hermione sighed. “You purebloods are inbreeding yourselves to extinction. And I don’t mean that to be offensive, so please don’t. Just that Muggles have been studying genetics for decades, and too much inbreeding causes a lot of problems physically and medically. Infertility is one of them.”

“Are you sure about that?” Theo asked skeptically. It went counter to everything the purebloods taught, after all.

“Relatively, yes. I can try to acquire some books about it when we all go home,” Hermione offered.

“If you would, please, I’d like to read them.”

“So would I,” Neville said. “Does it apply to plants, too?”

Hermione’s nose scrunched up as she thought hard back to her Muggle school lessons and extra reading. “Not always, but sometimes it does,” she finally answered.

“It’s one reason I’m so interested in my history,” Harry said. “I wonder if it was more common for certain families to marry muggle-borns than say the Malfoys.”

“I think so,” Draco said. “At least, I don’t think ‘Potter’ was a magical name originally. But the family line continues unbroken, so the lineage is still counted among the oldest.”

“I can recommend a few books for you to check out,” Theo added.

Things in Gryffindor hadn’t improved by Friday, enough that the teachers were starting to notice something had changed in the Gryffindor dynamic. Harry knew there were rumors going around that Harry wasn’t in the second year Gryffindor dorm any more. He wasn’t sure if they’d heard the rumors, or how much stock they put in them. The twins and Lee were happy to welcome Harry as a permanent resident of their dorm room, and even Kenneth admitted Harry was a pretty fun dorm-mate. None of them minded when Crookshanks came for a visit, and accepted Hermione occasionally dropping by as well. Harry now regularly silenced his bed curtains so no one was the wiser about his occasional nightmares, and Crooks always found him after one even if Hermione didn’t sneak in..

Percy even came forward and apologized on behalf of the Weasley clan for Ron’s actions to both Harry and Hermione. 

Ron continued to act like Harry was the one who’d done something wrong, refusing to even speak to Harry and clearly blaming him for the fact that one of the girls, and not exclusively from Gryffindor, would hex him every day. Most of the teachers, surprisingly, looked the other way as long as the hexes didn’t involve anything dangerous. Harry’s favorite happened that morning when someone had gotten a broom and dustpan to follow Ron around everywhere. 

“Weasel still got his pants in a twist?” Draco asked as the group congregated for the last AA session of the term. Hermione wasn’t there yet, but they all expected her soon.

“He really has the whole ‘my life is so unfair’ routine down,” Neville said. They’d seen a remarkable change in Neville since AA started. He started to gain a self-confidence that had been taken away by his family, which helped him perform better. Snape had stopped lurking in his blind spot which prevented the constant panic attacks that Neville had once had in Potions. Snape on occasion ‘forced’ Neville and Draco to work together ‘to prevent Longbottom from blowing us all sky high.’ While acting like they both hated it and Draco acting like he was berating Neville the whole way, Neville actually had commented that Draco was excellent at teaching him potions. “I mean, I’m sure it can’t be easy growing up with money being tight and having five older brothers,” Neville admitted. “But it can’t have been all that hard. It’s not like his brothers tried to drown him or dangled him headfirst out a third-story window… his parents love him just as much as they love his siblings. He just can’t see it.”

“I don’t understand how you took it,” Theo, who was creating a study aid on History of Magic said to Harry. “I mean, after ten years of being literally beaten by your family, how do you let him complain about being poor?”

Harry shrugged. “Honestly, before Hermione gave me a way out, I didn’t want anyone to know. Ron’s easily distracted by any opportunity to whine about his home life. And to be completely honest, his behavior still wasn’t nearly as bad as at my Aunt and Uncle’s, so I just… dealt with it.”

“You did that a lot, last year,” Draco said thoughtfully. “I didn’t notice it then because I was adjusting to the fact that even at Hogwarts, I couldn’t escape my father, since he sits on the Board of Governors here… but yeah, any time anyone bullied you, you just shrugged it off, like it was nothing.”

Luna broke in with a shrug. “Being bullied or teased or picked on for being different is just something you start to get used to,” she said lowly. “It happens to a lot of people, and it doesn’t seem to matter what makes you different… just that you are.”

“It really wasn’t much, by comparison to what I was used to,” Harry admitted. “It took a summer with Hermione and her parents to really make me realize that sort of behavior isn’t okay and I shouldn’t have to put up with it. Do you know, Hermione’s never been hit in her life? Not even a slap on the mouth for saying something bad.”

Hermione came in on the tail end of Harry’s comment, looking winded as if she had run to make up for being late. “My parents are pretty progressive, as far as that goes. Some parents do spank their children. But a spanking is usually just enough to make a point, and doesn’t do any lasting damage.”

“I thought you said you guys were in trouble last summer for being out after curfew?” Neville asked.

Harry grinned and nodded. “We were grounded for two weeks. No recreational reading, and we had to spend the entire day outside. Homework after dinner. That was it.”

Draco started to laugh. “I can imagine that  _ would _ be punishment for you, Athena.”

Hermione blushed. “When I was younger, sometimes it was the only way to get me outside.”

“I ended up taking swimming lessons, and Hermione and I would swim together afterwards,” Harry said. “I’d never been allowed in a pool before.”

Luna smiled wistfully. “There’s a river that runs by my house. It’s not much good for swimming, but we could wade and feed the fish over the summer if you’d like to come see it. There’s a school that migrates there in the summer, so I’ve named them all.”

“Man, I wish I could invite you lot over for the hols,” Draco said with a sigh. “We have an indoor pool,  _ and _ an outdoor lagoon we can swim in.”

“Sounds really nice,” Harry said, to both comments. 

Draco nodded. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever had a proper pool party because ‘purebloods do not conduct themselves in such a manner,’ but my friends and I would mess around down there when my parents were out. Just the boys, you understand.”

“Of course,” Harry said. 

Draco turned to Hermione, who had her breath back. “You all right? Weasel hasn’t waylaid you or said anything else to you, has he?” he asked, a prickle of something in his voice.

She shook her head. “Nothing at all. He hasn’t spoken to either Harry or myself. Sorry I was late, though. Fred and George wanted to talk to me for a minute; I think all the Weasleys have apologized for Ronald’s behavior on behalf of the family. But I don’t blame them; I never did. And just because Ronald is a prat doesn’t mean I object to being friends with the rest of them. Why, he hasn’t gone off on you, has he?”

Draco shrugged. “A couple of times,” he acknowledged. “I think he thinks just because I’m in Slytherin makes it okay to act like that. And I admit that last year I goaded you out of… well you know… but I haven’t done anything this year to warrant him calling me… well, they’re not words I’d repeat in mixed company, but they referred to pureblood inbreeding in relation to a sexual act and my intelligence.”

“I really wonder where Ron learned all this,” Harry said.

“What do you mean?” Neville asked.

“Bigotry isn’t born in a vacuum,” Hermione explained. “I mean, his whininess and woe-is-me self pity probably came from his mum being too indulgent. But to be truly hateful of someone for reasons of blood or whatever, that has to be taught by someone.”

“The Weasleys and the Malfoys have had a feud of sorts going for generations,” Draco told them. “It could be that he witnessed a few… interactions… between our fathers, and decided all traditional purebloods must be that way.”

“Ronald accompanied his father to ministry functions,” Luna said vaguely. “He observed how important wizards treated women and people of various blood. I believe he is acting this way because he wishes to gain back the attention he had when Harry Potter was his best friend, but it is attracting the wrong attention.”

“Not to say that you’re to blame for this,” Neville said. “But Luna’s right. I’ve caught him a few times staring at the space where your bed used to be. He wants to apologize, but doesn’t know how.”

Harry snorted. “I’m not the one he should apologize to,” he said in frustration.

“Something tells me Weasley doesn’t understand that,” Theo said. “One of the seventh years told me they have to deal with someone like him once in a while and almost always it leads to a shut-out.”

Harry blinked. “A shut-out?”

“No one in school talks to you,” Hermione said. “No one will work with you, no one will even acknowledge you exist. I’d… I’d prefer if it didn’t come to that…”

“It might take something that extreme to get through his thick skull, though,” Draco commented. “This isn’t like people bullying you, Hermione. Ronald didn’t just go after you but also he verbally attacked half the school. Even if it wasn’t in their presence, every girl in the school heard about it and they’re  _ all _ angry. For themselves, as well as for you.”

“I think the twins might be planning something for over hols,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “I guess we’ll just have to see if anything changes when the new term starts.”

“I think we can convince them to hold off until after the holidays,” Theo said. “Most of us would be in for some ‘correctional discipline’ when we went home after making our mum angry enough to send a Howler. They will probably wait to see if that happens - or if it takes.”

“Good enough. So do we have anything new to discuss today?” Hermione asked.

“I think I’ve spotted one or two other students we might want to consider inviting to this group,” Draco said after a moment.

“More Slytherins?” Luna asked, her voice curious and not the least judgmental.

“We know them better,” Draco shrugged. “Anyway, I think Blaize Zabini might benefit from the group. I  _ think _ he’s more like Luna than the rest of us, but it’s hard to say until we can get him talking. And he’s a couple years ahead of us, but Marcus Flint.”

“Flint’s a huge bully,” Harry pointed out.

“Yes, but that could actually be a response to being abused at home. Abuse doesn’t always make people quieter outside the home situation,” Hermione said reasonably. She looked around the room, and everyone nodded. “All right. If you can assure the secrecy of the group and their willingness to cooperate and be tolerant, we can bring them in after the hols. Talk to Professor Snape about it; I’m pretty sure he’ll want to be here. I’ll leave it to your discretion as to whether we should bring both in at the same time, since we’ll likely have to go through everyone’s history - even if only briefly - for the newbies.”

“Newbies?” Theo asked, chuckling. “More muggle terminology?”

“It’s apt, isn’t it?” Harry countered with a grin.

“We’re gonna know everything we need to know about muggles to skip muggle studies next year,” Draco added, laughing.

“Oh, Muggle Studies would be fascinating taught from a wizarding perspective,” Hermione pointed out.

“Wizards still think of muggles the way they did five hundred years ago,” Neville pointed out. “Less civilized, short-lived, thinking of magic as the work of the devil, that sort of thing.”

Hermione made a face. “Muggles have come  _ so _ far in the last hundred years, let alone the past five hundred. Have Wizards missed the Industrial Revolution entirely?”

“Not entirely, but a lot of them assume things like horseless carriages were stolen from Wizards by the Muggles.”

“Horseless… you mean cars?” Hermione asked, wide-eyed. “Sweet Circe, are you all really so behind the times? No wonder everyone is so anti-muggle...”

“Maybe you should start thinking now about things you could add to the curriculum?” Harry teased gently. “If nothing else, we can teach our friends, here.”

“Well, once Harry’s of age, he gets a seat on the Board of Governors here,” Draco said. “As will I, one day. You change minds of our classmates the curriculum will change in a generation. Honestly, I want to replace Divination with something else. You can’t really  _ teach _ divination. You either have it or you don’t.”

“That’s actually a good idea,” Neville said. “I’ll be replacing my Gran on the Board, once I’m of age. That’s three votes of twelve right there…”

“If they join us, the Flints and the Zabinis have some political pull, too,” Theo pointed out. “And the Lovegoods, though their reputation isn’t the best.” He shot an apologetic glance at Luna, who shrugged it off. “That’s fixable too, though. And if nothing else, they can influence public opinion with their publication.”

Luna was taking a while to accept the fact that she was pushing belief in things that didn’t exist because she was hoping for her father’s love or even acknowledgement. The others understood, and were allowing her to process everything in her own time. She did, however, explain there were certain things that she could see that almost everyone else could not, like thestrals and wrackspurts. “I hope to fix that as well,” Luna chimed in. “And turn the Quibbler into a respectable paper.”

“Oh, that reminds me, Luna. Mum said that if you’d like to come stay with us overnight one evening during hols, you’d be welcome,” Hermione spoke up. “I just told her you’re from a small family and might not have a lot of plans.”

“Really?” Luna’s eyes lit up with real joy. “I think I would like that.”

“Maybe New Year’s Eve?” Hermione asked. “I don’t know… does the magical world do anything for New Year’s?”

“Just the usual upper crust pureblood balls,” Draco said dismissively. “Nothing interesting.”

“I’ve never been invited to one of those anyway,” Luna said softly. “I would like to celebrate the new year with your family, Hermione, Harry.”

“Perfect. I’ll write Mum to confirm.”

They spent the rest of the session on Draco and Theo’s nerves about going home. Harry felt guilty that he was safe and they weren’t. “Isn’t there anyone who can step in? What about the head of the family on your mother’s side?”

“The current Head of the Blacks is in Azkaban, and in any case only has influence, not control. The woman joins her husband’s House, end of story,” Draco said.

“My Mum’s family don’t even see us anymore,” Theo added. “I doubt they’d even try to intercede.”

“And I suppose your parents expect you home, so you can’t stay here for Christmas hols,” Hermione said.

“I was planning on staying here,” Draco said. “But if, as you said, there’s a basilisk in the school, I want to see if our family library has any information on what can kill one other than a rooster. Thankfully, my father is away on business to Australia, so it’s unlikely that he’ll be there. Theo and I will probably mostly spend the hols together. Our parents leave us alone when we’re ‘entertaining.’”

Hermione nodded. “I’m glad. And we can test the coins over the distance, too. I’ll always keep mine on me, and you can contact me anytime. Even if it’s just because you need to talk.”

“We all will,” Neville said with a smile. “We don’t have to be together to support each other.”

~~~~~~

Earlier in the afternoon, Hermione had been on her way to the AA meeting. She walked alone, but cautiously, checking corners with her hand mirror just to be on the safe side. While she was distracted with the mirror, a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her into an alcove behind a tapestry.

“What in the..?” She broke off when she realized she stood facing the Weasley twins. Fred flicked his wand at the tapestry and whispered a silencing spell.

“Sorry to waylay you--”

“--but we wanted to ask--”

“--what’s going on with you and Harry?” the twins finished in unison.

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked, trying to act oblivious. “We’re just friends. Really good friends, but Harry was just defending me.”

“It’s more than that.”

“Harry’s been acting different.”

“He’s… calmer. He trusts people more.”

“His grades have sharply risen--”

“--to the point that he’s your competition.”

“He’s  _ trying _ .”

“And he acts like you’re--”

“--more than just a friend. More like a sibling.”

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed softly. “I swear to you, if you mention what I’m about to tell you to  _ anyone _ I will hex you until your future progeny are at risk,” Hermione said in a low, intense voice.

The twins exchanged a look, very serious for once. “We promise on our magic,” they chorused.

She eyed them both, but they had identical expressions of complete honesty. Not even a spark of mischief could be found in their intense gazes.

“Harry’s aunt and uncle treated him like a slave. He lived… where he was living was vile. They hurt him. A lot. So now he’s living with me and my parents, permanently. He’s my little brother, but Dumbledore can’t know. I won’t let anyone send him back to…  _ that. _ ”

“They… Hermione are you saying they  _ beat  _ him? We remember his family from last summer… His uncle has to be at least three times his size,” Fred said, immediately more serious than he’d ever been.

“How can we help?” George added, his stance tense and steel in his expression.

“Stand up for him when someone puts him down and he does nothing. Help me build up his self-confidence, so he understands that kind of behavior isn’t okay. Until this summer, he’s never known anything different.”

“I think we can be more overt with our support,” George said thoughtfully. “Back him when he’s defending someone else, pick him up when he stumbles.”

“And make him smile and laugh as much as we can,” Fred added.

“Lee, Alicia, Angela, and Katie will join us,” George said. “Even if we don’t tell them why. The Gryffindor Chasers have always been a bit protective of Harry.”

“We probably shouldn’t tell them, really,” Fred added. “It would really upset them. It’s hard for you to understand, but even Oliver pulled his head out of his playbook and noticed how…  _ thin _ and  _ scared _ Harry was at the start of last year.”

Hermione nodded, remembering her surprise when she’d met Harry on the train. He was nothing like the boy described in all the history books she’d read. “Just… do me a favor and try to get them to understand that he doesn’t want to be ‘The Boy Who Lived’ to everyone. He just wants to be Harry, and to be liked and respected for himself. Not for something he can’t even remember happening,” Hermione asked softly.

“They won’t,” Fred said. “We’ve always just seen him as Harry. The best Quidditch Seeker Hogwarts has seen in over a century.”

“Besides, Quidditch team mates have to stick together,” George finished.

Impulsively, Hermione hugged each of the twins. “Thank you. It’s… nice to know I have backup. But now I really do have to run. I’m supposed to be in the library for a tutoring session.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who think we're being really hard on Ron - in a way you're right, we are. But all we're really doing is showcasing the jealousy and anger in his character earlier than happened in canon. He was pretty horrible to Hermione in PoA over Crookshanks and Scabbers, and he was awful to Harry in GoF over the whole tournament entry thing.
> 
> We don't think we're treating his character unfairly; he does have his good moments. But for those of you who really wanted him to feature more in this story... I'm afraid you're likely to be disappointed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duelling club! The next attack!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've had some of the most _interesting_ questions and comments on the last couple of chapters! While we don't provide spoilers in comments, we are happy to discuss viewpoints and people's reactions to what we've provided so far. We do love hearing from you, and we thank everyone who leaves us feedback!

**Chapter 6**

****

After a summer of learning self-defense in the muggle world, Harry was pretty excited to learn how to defend himself magically when a dueling club was announced. His excitement waned severely when he learned that Lockhart was the instigator, worrying that Lockhart was going to use the club as a way to corner Harry about his fame again, but since Professor Snape had been cajoled into joining Lockhart as co-leader by Dumbledore, Harry decided he should be safe enough. Hermione declined, telling Harry privately that if Professor Snape thought they needed to learn it he would teach them.

It turned out worse than Harry was anticipating. Lockhart paired up all the wrong people against each other so many house rivals fought each other. The only thing he could be happy about was that he and Draco were paired - since their rivalry was still ongoing in public, it just worked out that way. Since neither of them were fighting dirty, they actually got to have a proper duel and enjoyed the practice despite the constant ‘bickering’ and ‘name-calling’ that they faked.

Ron was paired up with Neville, and Ron looked like he was more than happy with the pairing. Harry almost felt bad for Ron. The week before the Dueling Club was announced, Harry happened to have mentioned his muggle defense lessons. Draco had mentioned dueling and magical defense and Snape had immediately volunteered his Saturday evening to teach them proper dueling technique and watch over Harry and Hermione teaching the group muggle fighting upon Draco’s request to learn.

“Really?” Hermione asked Draco suspiciously. “You want to learn  _ muggle _ fighting?”

“What part of ‘any means to meet your ends’ do you not understand,” Draco responded with a grin. 

During the Saturday practice, the members of the AA  all learned one clear thing - Neville fought  _ dirty _ . For someone usually so clumsy, Neville used it to his advantage, using the ‘fall and roll’ technique Harry and Hermione taught them to trip over his own feet, shoot off a defensive spell and roll back to his feet, landing the spells at angles even Snape couldn’t manage. 

Harry, meanwhile, hadn’t realized there were forms to dueling and it wasn’t just a bunch of spells being thrown back and forth. There were different styles of fighting that had different form sets, just like muggle fighting. It was fascinating to Harry, and even Hermione was intrigued. Snape had recommended a stack of books available in the Hogwarts library as well as referring them to Flitwick, who apparently was a former international dueling champion, for more. Harry decided to study the books for now, and turn to Flitwick once he’d memorized the books’ contents.

Unfortunately, the Dueling Club wasn’t really so much a Duel as an all-out brawl. “Enough! Enough!” Snape yelled, as students were broken up left and right. Harry and Draco glared at each other, putting all the venom they could muster into the expressions - knowing neither of them meant it. Each of them had gotten a hit in, but there wasn’t much room where they were standing. Harry looked over at Neville who was looking rather pleased with himself. He’d landed a Sardine Hex as well as a Horn-Growing Hex; Ron now sported a pair of antlers on his head and had sardines coming out of his nose. The students around the pair were staring at Neville, awed.

“It appears you all could use a demonstration on what dueling really is,” Snape drawled. He looked down at them. “Potter, Malfoy, get up here.”

Both of them clambered up onto the stage, glaring ferociously at each other. Snape whispered something at Draco and the two of them brought their wands at the ready. 

“Need me to teach you which end to point at me, Potter?” Draco snapped. “I’d be happy to teach you.”

“Need me to teach you what losing is again, Malfoy? They say repetition is the key to memorization,” Harry shot back. Then everything became quiet. Harry went through the form that Snape had taught him, casting charms at Draco. One of Draco’s spells landed a hit and Harry took two steps back, but he kept on. 

When he knocked Draco off the stage, all the sound came back. Except there wasn’t much of it. The entire Dueling Club was in complete silence. Neville started clapping. Dean immediately followed. Suddenly the entire Club was cheering for him. Draco went pink as Snape helped him up. “You’ll get yours, Potter!” Draco shouted, since only the purebloods near him could hear him over the shouting.

“Blimey, Harry,” Dean Thomas asked. “Where’d you learn how to do that?” 

“Hermione found me the books I needed to read, and we studied ahead of time,” Harry said, looking pointedly at Ron, who went scarlet. He was glad Hermione had decided not to join the club, finding Snape’s private lessons far more appealing. They were definitely more suited to her taste than this… melee.

The next day, the excitement at the Dueling Club was the talk of the school. More than once, people stopped Harry in the hallway to ask him how he had obtained such skills or asked him to retell the story for those who hadn’t been there. Hermione rolled her eyes and smiled at Harry indulgently. He was pleased that, for once, he was being talked about for something he’d done and not what was done to him. Draco was basking in the attention as well, claiming the duel was fixed and he’d been injured. Hermione was more worried about what an awful moderator Lockhart had turned out to be for the club and was glad that Snape had been there to impose some sort of order.

She rounded the corner, headed to the girls’ loo before making her way to the library, when she stopped abruptly. She slapped a hand to her mouth to prevent herself from screaming. There, in the hallway between her and the loo, were two frozen figures. She’d had no idea a ghost could be petrified, but Nearly-Headless Nick hung frozen in the air. Right beside him was a third-year Ravenclaw that Hermione only vaguely recognized, also petrified in place.

Hermione couldn’t move, wondering if the basilisk was still around. After several very long seconds, she decided that perhaps screaming wasn’t such a bad plan after all and she shrieked aloud. Students and professors came running. She didn’t need to point out why she screamed. That much was obvious. Hermione was pale-faced, shaking, and speechless, her eyes filled with fear that for the first time in her life, she didn’t have the words to express. The professors who arrived at the sound of Hermione’s scream began ushering students back around the corner, away from the terrible scene, once they had processed why she’d shouted. McGonagall descended on Hermione, wrapping an arm around the girl and gently guiding her away. Snape stormed past everyone and began examining the scene, and McGonagall joined him after passing Hermione off to Percy Weasley with an admonition to take her - and the other students - back to their common rooms.

Hermione stayed pale and silent the whole way, unable to meet anyone’s eyes, the confidence she’d gained over the past year and a half suddenly gone. Percy repeatedly gave her worried looks as he tried to comfort her while herding the rest of their House at the same time. 

“Hermione!” she heard Harry cry and immediately snapped her head up, eyes flipping from fear to hope in the blink of an eye, searching for her brother. For the first time, she was beyond grateful to  _ have _ a brother, to have someone she could turn to, someone who would always be there for her.

Harry grabbed her and dragged her to a corner of the Gryffindor common room, away from the others who were all speculating on what could be attacking students - who could be attacking students. “It’s okay, Hermione,” Harry said quietly as she clung to him, searching for something solid to reassure herself that she was alive. “It wasn’t you. You’re okay. It wasn’t you.”

“She was our age,” Hermione said softly. “Who could be so heartless to attack  _ kids _ Harry?” Harry gave her a look and she couldn’t help but laugh, strained and near-hysterical though it was. Harry had been attacked as a baby. Who knew who else could be so heartless in the Wizarding world. It was a question for the others, once the holidays were over. 

They sat quietly for a while, not speaking but just being there for each other. Holding hands and reminding the other they were both there and safe until Hermione was calmer, though she was still fretting quietly. But Harry knew the best way to distract her was to give her something to do. He waved at Katie Bell, who was sitting nearby with the Gryffindor team,  and she started in their direction. “You should pack for the hols. I should, too. And maybe make a list of things we need to acquire while we’re home.”

“I don’t want to be alone,” Hermione whispered, feeling ashamed of being so clingy but unable to help herself.

“You don’t have to be alone. Katie will go with you, won’t you Katie?” Harry said sweetly, looking up at his teammate. “Keep Hermione company so she can pack?”

“Of course,” the older girl replied with a smile. “You must still be pretty shaken up, finding them the way you did, yeah, Hermione?” Hermione nodded, and Katie offered her hand sympathetically. “Then I’ll keep you company until your roommates come up.”

“Thank you,” Hermione murmured, taking Katie’s hand. Never before had she felt quite so childlike, but at the same time she was undoubtedly grateful for the cosseting she would normally refuse indignantly.

Katie pulled Hermione in close, murmuring soothing things to her as they headed up the stairs. Before she let Hermione set about packing, the older girl gave Hermione a tight hug and just held her comfortingly until Hermione was ready to get started. Hermione was a little startled at the open affection and comfort from the older girl, but she wasn’t about to turn it away.

Harry had his own silent breakdown once Hermione was out of sight. “You all right Harry?” Neville asked. He turned and saw the Quidditch team, minus Katie, and his current and former dorm mates, minus Ron, looking at him. 

“I’m fine, she’s… she’s my best friend,” Harry said, trying to explain. “And she almost… I mean she could have been petrified.”

Alicia Spinnet nodded, coming over and sitting down next to him. The rest of the team was quick to follow. “We understand, Harry. We know how you two are with each other. Any of us with siblings can imagine being in either of your shoes. We just hope it doesn’t ruin your hols. It was an almost, but it didn’t really happen. It’s important to concentrate on the fact that she’s okay.”

“I know. I know she’s okay,” Harry said, trying to convince himself as much as anything. “I just… I can’t imagine…”

“Try not to,” Oliver Wood suggested. “You sent her upstairs to keep her busy, yeah? Maybe you should do the same.”

“C’mon, Harry,” Fred said, wrapping an arm around Harry’s shoulders. “We’ll all go pack.”

“I’ll go check on Hermione for you,” Alicia offered with a smile. “We’re all okay, Harry. And we’ll all stick together. We Lions protect our own.”

As they had the habit of doing, Fred and George had Harry laughing in under ten minutes. They pulled out all sorts of pranks and performed them on each other. Ken and Lee were howling from their beds. 

Neville found a quiet moment and took out his AA coin. He assumed their Slytherin and Ravenclaw friends would be worried, too, but mostly couldn’t afford to show it. He was glad Hermione had been able to modify the charms, and that they had a separate incantation if they wished to include their professors. He didn’t want to distract them tonight. A whispered spell and he sent the message,  _ Apollo and Athena shaken but ok. Be careful. -Esus _

_ Give them my love. -Pandia _ was the only message he got in return, but he knew seeing the exchange would make the rest of his friends smile.

Alicia knocked on the door to the second year dorms, and was let in by Katie. “Hey, Hermione,” she greeted pleasantly.

“Hi Alicia,” Hermione answered, her tone still a little shaky.

“How are you holding up?” Alicia asked. “Harry’s pretty worried. The Weasley twins took him upstairs to do his own packing.”

Hermione shrugged as she focused on packing her holiday homework into her trunk. “It was pretty terrifying. But… well, it wasn’t me. It may have been a near thing, but it wasn’t me or anyone I’m particularly close to. So… I’ll be okay.”

“Glad to hear it,” Alicia said. “Just know that if you need someone to talk to…”

“We’re both here,” Katie finished. “You and Harry don’t have to deal with this yourselves.”

Hermione managed a smile. “Thank you, both of you. I… well, Lavender and Pavarti are nice girls, but they don’t really seem to like me much. And I don’t really understand them either.”

“That happens sometimes,” Alicia assured her. “You’re interested in different things, and more mature than they are. It’ll be okay.”

“If you’re done, maybe we should go back downstairs?” Katie suggested. “Better in company, I think.”

Hermione nodded and let the two older girls walk her back down to the Common Room.

A short while later, Professor McGonagall returned and informed them the victims were Nearly-Headless Nick and a Ravenclaw third year named Marietta Edgecomb. She also told them that dinner would be delivered to them and a mandatory curfew was in effect. Harry and Hermione sat for dinner, surrounded by friends, eating without really tasting it, then talking until they were all worn out. No one commented when Hermione slipped up the stairs behind the boys and snuck into Harry’s bed, Crookshanks on her heels. They silenced the bed via the curtains, pretty sure a nightmare from one or both of them was inevitable.

The train home was quieter than any Harry had ever remembered. He and Hermione sat in a compartment with Neville and Luna, and they all tried to cheer each other up but couldn’t seem to manage to. It did get easier once London grew closer and Harry realized that this was going to the first time that he’d have a home for Christmas. A real one. 

As the train pulled in to Kings Cross, Harry could see Hermione put on the mask of an excited student home for the holidays. She hugged Luna and Neville both tightly before they left the compartment, reminding Luna that they’d arrange to pick her up on New Year’s Eve.

Then, playing the part of a best friend dragging her guest home, she grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him with her as she dashed to meet her parents. “Mum! Dad!” she called out. Hermione and Harry both received quick hugs and a serious once-over from both of their parents, but nothing was said aside from holiday chatter until they got home.

Harry and Hermione stowed their trunks in their rooms before returning to the living room to join their parents. Jean had tea ready for them, and fresh sliced fruit to snack on. Hermione cradled her mug in her hands, grateful for the warmth. Harry nibbled on a slice of apple.

“Before we get involved in Christmas plans, is there anything you want to talk about?” George asked in a gentle voice. He could tell the kids were on edge and didn’t want to push them over.

“There’s been… a lot going on at school,” Hermione answered quietly.

“The good news is we formed a group for kids like me. I’m actually getting to be pretty good friends with some of the kids I thought were just bullies,” Harry said. 

“Our friend Luna, who’s coming to sleep over for New Year’s is one of them,” Hermione added.

“Unfortunately, Ron is really jealous that I spent the summer with Hermione and that she invited me for the Christmas hols…” Harry went on.

“Did Ron invite you?” Jean asked frowning. 

“No!” Harry exclaimed in frustration. “He just assumed. And then he got mad at me and called Hermione some awful things and said she should stick to practicing household spells. So now he’s even angrier at me because hardly anyone in school will even talk to him.”

“You can’t control what others do, honey,” Jean comforted. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Now Hermione, dear, are you okay?”

“They’re talking about doing a school-wide shut out because he keeps… he keeps blaming me for nothing at all,” Hermione said, tears in her eyes. George and Jean instantly sat on either side of her. 

“The kids in Hermione’s primary school did that to her a lot,” George explained to Harry. “Though I have to say, I don’t entirely oppose it in this instance.”

“Dad,” Hermione objected, but she was smiling.

“That’s not all that’s bothering you, though, sweetheart,” George said. “I know you, my girl, and something has you really shaken up.”

Hermione looked at Harry, on the other side of her Mum. When Harry reached out to take Hermione’s hand, Jean pulled him into the family embrace.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione began to talk about the strange occurrences at school since Halloween. She didn’t yet start explaining any of their theories or the ideas the AA Club had worked out, but she finished with stumbling across Marietta in the hallway and panicking.

Harry picked up the story when Hermione broke off, explaining how their housemates had rallied around them and how he’d made sure Hermione wasn’t left alone at all that evening - even if boys weren’t allowed in the girls’ dorms.

“We’re very proud of you for taking care of your sister like that, Harry,” Jean told him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “This is all very troubling news, though. What could possibly be petrifying students in a supposedly-safe magical school?”

“We have a pretty solid theory, and we took it to a couple of our professors,” Hermione told her parents. “They’re doing their best to take necessary precautions.”

“I… can talk to and understand snakes,” Harry admitted. “I’m told it’s an extremely rare talent, and there hasn’t been anyone in Hogwarts with the same gift in fifty years.”

Hermione helped Harry to explain their theory about the basilisk, why they came to the conclusions they had, and the research they and their friends had been doing. Unfortunately, the more they explained, the more worried their parents looked.

“If this creature is so dangerous, why haven’t they closed the school until the problem is resolved?” Jean inquired. She was obviously fighting some protective urge from what Harry saw.

“Apparently, the last time the basilisk attacked anyone, it was being controlled. There isn’t any evidence to make us think anything has changed,” Harry explained. “It’s only attacking one or two at a time and there’s been months between attacks.”

“If someone is controlling it, we think it could be a student,” Hermione filled in. 

Jean frowned deeply, glancing at George. “As much as I love logic leaping and puzzles, I can’t help but want you both out of there…” she said. “I think your father and I are going to have to think about if we want you two back there for the next term. I don’t like the idea of my babies in that much danger.”

“Honestly, Mum, Hermione and I think we should go back,” Harry said, the title slipping without any thought on his part while he was distracted. “Partly because untrained magic is just as dangerous, and we need to learn how to control it properly. But also because if someone is targeting muggle-born and muggle-raised witches and wizards, the best way to keep our family safe is to learn how to counter the magic and attacks that will be brought against us.” Jean gave Harry a look of love and hope that made Harry blush deeply, realizing what he said.

“What about bear spray,” George suggested thoughtfully, partially to distract Harry. “It’s like pepper spray but five hundred times more potent. If it could stop a bear attack temporarily, couldn’t it stop a basilisk?”

“Maybe we should write Professor McGonagall and suggest it,” Harry said, getting the image of a giant snake, hissing in pain, staggering around the Hogwarts halls until a teacher put it out of its misery.

“ _ If _ we’re going to let you go back to school with such a large threat looming, I would insist that you have some way to protect yourselves,” George said firmly. “I know you’re not allowed to practice magic outside of school, but I will arm you with muggle means if I must. Even if that means bear spray and compressed air canisters to spray upside-down. Most snakes have problems with cold.”

“We will take some time and discuss it,” Jean said finally. “I don’t like it, but you might be right and I think we all need some time to think rationally and not emotionally. So, do you have any less dire news for us?”

“Yes,” Hermione said. Harry looked at her, head cocked to the side as if he weren’t sure what she meant. “Early in the term, Professors Snape and McGonagall figured out that Harry wasn’t staying with his aunt and uncle anymore. They confronted us about it, and when we explained why… well, they understood.”

Harry’s eyes lit up, remembering the discussion he and Hermione had about how to tell their parents. “They helped us set up the group we formed for other abused kids, for one thing. But also, they actually told me  _ why _ I was sent to the Dursleys in the first place.”

“As best we understand it, when Harry’s birth-mum gave her life to protect his, it created some kind of magical protection around him as long as he’s living at least part of the year with one of his mother’s blood kin,” Hermione explained. “Apparently no one ever thought it through and realized that muggles who were already afraid of magic and wizards would probably take out that fear on the child left with them,” she added frostily.

“Okay, so you needed to stay with them. Does this mean that those protections are gone?” Jean asked, pulling Harry closer in a protective manner.

“No,” Harry replied quietly. “We asked if there was a way to transfer those protections to your family instead. Hermione and I both took a potion that makes her my sister by blood and by magic. Professor Snape made it for us, after explaining the possible repercussions to make sure we understood what we were doing.”

“And those repercussions are…?” George asked, frowning.

“Essentially, I’m legally Harry’s sister in the magical world as well as you having custody of him,” Hermione explained. “Technically that makes me the sister of the Head of House Potter. I have the same access he does to the family’s assets, and if we were following Wizarding tradition they would have to speak to him to negotiate my marriage. But don’t worry; Wizarding tradition aside, Harry would never commit me to anything without my consent.”

“It also means that any debts incurred in the name of the House fall on both of us,” Harry added. “But in return, it also means that the family magics that protect me also now protect her. And we have been able to confirm that this house still counts as  _ home _ as far as my mother’s protections are concerned.”

Jean began to chuckle, and George got up from the couch for a moment, leaving the children on either side of his wife. He came back after a moment, a folder in his hands. “I suppose this bond of yours means you’d like us to sign and formalize this?” he asked, handing the folder to Harry as he sat down on the floor in front of the trio on the couch.

**Application for Adoption** read the top of the first page. It listed Harry’s name as the child to be adopted.

“You… you mean it?” Harry stammered, taken by surprise. It was one thing for Hermione to be his sister, permanently. It was something different for her parents to have legal custody of him. But an actual adoption? He’d never even imagined asking for it.

“Of course we mean it,” Jean said. “But we wouldn’t file it without your agreement.”

Harry hesitated for a brief eternity. “What… what would it change? Would I have to change my name? I… I love it here, but… but… my parents died for me. Shouldn’t I hold onto that?”

“Dear boy, we don’t want to change anything about who you are,” Jean assured him. “You can keep your name as it is, if you prefer. Or you can take ours if you want to. You can even be Harry Potter-Granger, if that’s your choice.”

Harry looked down. “Really, Harry,” George said. “You don’t have to change your name. We don’t want to replace your parents or for you to forget them. We won’t love you any less.”

“We talked about this, remember Harry?” Hermione said softly. “Your parents wanted the best for you, wanted you to be happy and safe. You shouldn’t feel guilty for accepting it; if your parents are watching you from Heaven - or wherever the Wizarding afterlife is - I’m sure they’re cheering you on right now. Nobody should ever be alone in the world, and you least of all.”

“We don’t have to do this. And if we do it, we don’t have to decide now,” George said gently. “You’ll still be our son in all the ways that count.” 

Harry couldn’t speak. He was too choked up.  _ Son _ . He was someone’s son. He wasn’t sure he knew how to be a son. Of course, he hadn’t known exactly how to be a brother, either, but he and Hermione were muddling through. But to have George call him  _ their son _ , to have someone claim him out of love and not out of duty… it was something he’d never even imagined. Accepting Hermione as his sister was  _ easy _ . He loved her and he trusted her and she always looked out for what was best for him, even when they were just best friends. But to be a son was almost overwhelming. 

“Harry,” George said, moving to kneel down right in front of Harry. Harry looked away, but not before George saw he was crying. “Hey, kiddo. It’s okay.” He drew Harry into a warm embrace, and Harry sat stiff for a moment before melting into it. Harry started sobbing. A valve released within him that he didn’t know he had. Pressure that he’d been carrying around since before he could remember.

Jean joined the embrace when Harry’s tears calmed down somewhat. “You’re my kid, no matter what,” Jean affirmed, somehow following Harry’s line of thought.. Hermione curled herself into the nearest corner of the couch, but knew Harry needed their parents far more than she did. She was content to listen and watch. There were tears in her eyes, too, but they were for Harry and not herself.

“I want… I want parents. I want a family…” Harry admitted. He managed to catch a breath. “I’m just… I’m afraid of losing you too. Of wanting it so much I make it shatter instead.” Like the time he was holding a wine glass too tightly when he washed it and it broke, but instead of the glass shards embedding themselves in his palm, it slipped out of his hand and into the sink. When his Aunt had come in the kitchen to see what the racket was, Harry was shocked to see the glass pulled out of the sink, restored and whole. .

“I can’t promise that will never happen,” George answered with a sigh. “Everybody dies at some point. But I can promise you that even if something happens to one or both of us, we will always fight to the last breath to come home to you. And you’ll never be alone and abandoned again.”

“I have two siblings, both married and one with kids of her own. Plus Hermione’s godparents. We’ve already spoken to them, and in an emergency one of them will take you both in,” Jean promised. “Ask Hermione, they love her to pieces and they’ll love you too. But we don’t lead dangerous lives, and we will always be careful of ourselves. Because we have you two to take care of and we’ll never leave you alone if we can possibly help it.”

“Harry,” Hermione put in gently. “What’s our Club motto?”

“Stronger together,” Harry answered by rote, the habit of answering Hermione’s questions too strong to ignore. Even when he was feeling so out of his depth, it was easy to simply respond to her. She drilled things into his head so often that it was automatic to give her an answer if he knew it.

“And what did we promise when we drank our potions?”

“Family. Forever.” Harry took a deep breath and managed to give her a small smile for helping him out of the mess of his thoughts. “I still want to be Harry Potter,” Harry decided. “I don’t know how not to be Harry Potter. I used to lay in my cupboard and think that maybe I had a family member out there who’d come and rescue me. That my father’s family must want me. It kept me alive.”

“Then be Harry Potter. Brother of Hermione Granger,” Hermione said.

“Harry Potter, son of Jean and George Granger,” George continued. “We’re perfectly fine with that.”

“I want you to file the form, please. Before certain elements of the wizarding world get wind of it,” Harry said smirking. 

“Oh yeah,” Hermione said, eyeing it with a sly smile. “The purebloods will be  _ mad _ .”

“Well they can stuff it,” George said protectively. “You’re ours.”

Jean took the file from Harry, filled in the place where Harry’s name went to indicate that they wouldn’t be changing it, and then signed on the adoptive mother’s signature line. George signed next, and tucked it back into the folder. “We’ll drop it off first thing in the morning.”

“It’s the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten,” Harry said. “Though there’s not much competition.”

“This isn’t for Christmas,” George said, flabbergasted. “This is for you, and for us all. Christmas is still coming!” He chuckled. “We were originally planning to hold onto this until you came back for the summer. But since you two have taken the steps to make it real in the wizarding world, we thought you might want it to be legal in both worlds.”

Harry blinked at the idea of Christmas still to come, and Hermione giggled. “We were planning a shopping trip for tomorrow,” Jean said. “Usually George and I trade off taking Hermione to buy gifts so we can all be surprised. This time, we were planning to each take one of you, and then trade off. That way your gifts for each other can be surprises too.”

Harry looked down. “I… don’t think I have enough allowance left over for many presents. But maybe we could stop by Gringotts?”

“Psh,” George dismissed his concern. “You’re still kids. You don’t have to spend any of your own money. That’s why we take you shopping.”

“Besides,” Jean added. “We haven’t paid you guys allowance for a while,” she said. “Call it store credit. Hermione usually uses hers for books.”

Seeing that Harry looked overwhelmed, George shook his head and slowly released him from the group embrace. “Hermione, sweetheart, take your brother upstairs and explain how this family does Christmas. You can both unpack and come back down at dinnertime.”

“Yes, Dad,” Hermione replied.

Harry helped Hermione carry her trunk up to her room, then Hermione helped with Harry’s. His jaw dropped.

The guest room was now clearly  _ his _ room. Jean and George had clearly taken the contents of some of his simpler letters and used them to decorate his room. Quidditch posters adorned the walls, an empty bookshelf stood waiting for him to fill it up, and in addition to the desk he’d requested, there was now a plush desk chair in front of it. But most importantly, there were photos - wizarding photos - of his parents on the nightstand and dresser.

Hermione smiled at Harry’s shock. “Surprise, little brother.”

“You… you knew?” 

“About all this? No. That they wanted to make your room feel more like yours? Yes. I borrowed one of Fred’s quidditch magazines after he was finished with it and sent it to my parents. I had no idea they’d found pictures of your parents, though. These look like wedding photos.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, his eyes riveted on a picture of his parents dancing.

“So. Christmas.” Hermione sat on Harry’s bed, but instead of unpacking he joined her. They lay back, fingers entwined loosely between them, and Harry closed his eyes to let Hermione’s voice ground him.

“Tomorrow Mum and Dad will take us shopping. I’ll let you decide who you want to go with first, Mum or Dad. You’ll get to pick out gifts for me, gifts for friends, and gifts for the parent you’re not with. Then we’ll swap, and you’ll get gifts for the other parent and any friends you’ve still got that you want to shop for. We’ll start in Muggle shops. We always get together for lunch, and then as a whole family we pick out things to send to Mum’s sisters and their families. After all that, last year they took me to Diagon Alley so I could pick out additional magical things for friends if I wanted to.”

“And you don’t have to pay for any of it yourself?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, only if there are books or things I want for myself, and even then I use the ‘credited’ allowance. Mum and Dad are probably done shopping for us, except possibly for stuff they’d find in Diagon Alley. So they’ll likely steer you away from anything they’ve already gotten for you - though they can be pretty sneaky about it, so you don’t always remember what it was.”

“So what else?”

“Two days before Christmas, Mum will get out the ornament kits. We always make some new ones every year, and write or paint on the back our names and the year. On Christmas Eve, we decorate the tree with all our ornaments - both old and new. So you’ll have your own ornaments up for your first Christmas with us, too.”

Harry smiled. “That sounds really nice. How long have you been making ornaments?”

“Since I was about four.” Hermione made a face. “Some of them are really ugly, but Mum loves them because I tried so hard.”

“Awww,” Harry chuckled.

“Christmas morning we’ll get to open presents, and between Mum and Dad they’ll be snapping pictures all morning. We’ll mostly have tea and snacks in the living room, and we’ll have a big brunch when everyone gets too hungry to keep playing with our new things.”

“Will we get to see the pictures?” Harry asked.

“We should. Dad usually tries to have the film developed by New Year’s, so we can decide which ones we want to frame and put up somewhere.”

“Do you… do you think… if I asked… would they take a family photo of all of us? Maybe two, so I can take one back to school?”

“Oh, Harry. I’m sure they’d love to. You’ll have to keep your copy hidden, but I’m pretty sure you can hide it in a book. Mum will probably put it on the mantel, right next to our last family photo.”

There was absolutely nothing, short of his parents being alive again, that could top this moment. “You’re not gonna start being all judgmental about how I play Quidditch now that we’re magically and legally siblings, are you?”

“Harry, I’ve always been judgmental about you risking your life,” Hermione teased. “Now come on, we should unpack.” 

* * *

Severus Snape strolled down an unfamiliar road, cruel joy curling within him regarding what he was about to do. It still surprised him how quickly he’d grown fond of Harry once Snape got to know him. The boy was nothing like his father or his mother, in the end. There were certainly traits he clearly received from both parents, but the boy’s penchant to risk his life for others, his selflessness, his maturity, and his low esteem and expectations in others all came from this very house. It looked normal enough, but Snape knew that evil lingered within.

Severus knocked on the door, his lip curling when he saw the absolutely massive boy who answered it. He had assumed, incorrectly apparently, that Harry’s bone-thin appearance at the sorting was due to familial hardship or a recent growth spurt. Neither were true, but this other boy’s appearance made it far more evident. “What do you want?” the boy demanded impatiently.

Severus resisted the urge to roll his eyes. No manners, whatsoever. “I’m here to see Mrs. Petunia Dursley. May I come in?”

“Sure,” The boy said then he turned inside and yelled at the top of his lungs, “MUM, IT'S FOR YOU!” 

Severus was taking off his coat as the boy shut the door. He shook it and confirmed the thin powdered potion he’d mixed specifically for this event had  fallen over the threshold. Footsteps came from the kitchen. 

“You!” Petunia shrieked. 

“Hello, Tuney.”

“Get out. We don’t want your kind here.”

“Answer my questions and I’ll leave,” Snape growled. Petunia shrank back slightly. “Did you or did you not consciously make your nephew sleep in a cupboard?”

“That’s none of your business!” Petunia hissed.

“You’ll find, Petunia, that it is. Now answer the question.”

“Y-you c-can’t do magic here,” Petunia stammered. 

Severus Snape did something he had, at one time, promised himself he’d never do. He uncorked his rage. He took two giant steps until he was looming over Petunia, who shrunk further into herself. “You know that I don’t need magic to hurt you, Petunia Evans. I’m the son of Tobias Snape. Now, answer… the... question.”

“Yes,” Petunia ground out, gaining confidence with every word, pulling herself up primly. “We couldn’t have that freakish magic infect the house. We couldn’t have it  _ infecting _ our lives. Vernon thought that if we gave him enough to do, if we gave him as little as possible, he wouldn’t become…  _ that _ .”

Severus’ stomach churned. “Were you so fearful of your nephew’s magic that you’d beat a little boy? How young was he when he was first put in there?”

“It was an accident, the first time,” Petunia admitted. She was shaking. Dudley was watching from the very top steps of the stairs, obviously curious at who the stranger was, but as fearful as his parents. The child flinched each time ‘magic’ was spoken. “He was disappearing and reappearing six or seven of Duddy’s things and one hit Duddy on the head. We had to go to hospital and no one could take  _ him _ .”

Severus Snape froze. First, Harry Potter was a stronger wizard than even Dumbledore had guessed if he was able to control that many items at a young age, depending on when it had happened. Second, he had a sinking feeling that Harry had been injured in the altercation but no one had cared. “How old was he?”

“Two? Maybe three?” Petunia said, gaining confidence. “Who can remember? It was a long time ago.”

Snape closed his eyes and recorked his anger before he really did do something that he couldn’t undo, not that Petunia wouldn’t have deserved it. “The wards set up to protect you have been removed. Stay here or don’t, I don’t care, but Merlin help you if anyone else ever finds out what you have done.”

“What I have done? What  _ I  _ have done?” Petunia fumed. “What about what  _ you _ have done? I know what you did. You betrayed her. I heard her telling my mother and father. The word you used and who you joined.”

“Yes I did,” Snape said. “I was young and foolish and I hated my father. I thought all muggles were like him. Like  _ you _ .” Petunia flinched. “I made a mistake which I will regret every day for the rest of my life. But I was a child myself when I made it. Only sixteen. You were an adult when Harry was placed here. here is no excuse for what you did. You will join Tobias Snape in hell one day, and I hope you live every day for the rest of your life remembering that.” With that, Snape left, and prayed that when he told Harry what he’d done, Harry would one day find it in him to forgive him.

He turned gave one last look at Privet Drive and allowed himself a cruel smile. The poison he’d set upon the threshold was a particularly vindictive one. As homeowners of Number 4 Privet Drive, Vernon and Petunia Dursley would slowly begin to forget things, until all they could remember was every horrible, cruel thing they did to Harry. If they had any shred of soul left, it was the guilt, and not the poison, that would eat them alive. It would take decades to do, but the best revenge plans were the ones taken slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the Dursleys get what's coming to them. Finally. ;D
> 
> Also, the idea of bear-spraying the basilisk came from the fact that one of Kat's friends sleeps with bear spray by her bed. So if someone comes in, she can defend herself without hurting anyone by mistake (bear spray will earn you a trip to the hospital but no life-threatening injuries unless you have an allergy).


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmastime!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you so much to all our readers. All the kudos, comments and other feedback really helps us to feel like what we're doing is worthwhile for more than just ourselves. So thank you all.
> 
> Thursday's chapter may not appear at our usual time, as LadyWinterlight will be out of town. But we'll do our best not to keep you waiting too long!

_Not quite right, but we'll take it._

* * *

 

**Chapter 7**

Harry woke up to the smell of cinnamon rolls baking. For half a moment he thought he was at Hogwarts, then remembered that he was home, in his own room, with parents of his own downstairs. He closed his eyes for a second and sighed. What a difference a year made. He hoped Draco and Theo and Neville and Luna were all safe and warm. He hoped Ron would turn things around and see how much good Hermione was doing him. Or at least lay off, if he didn’t want to try to repair the friendship.

Rolling out of bed and pulling on a set of his Muggle clothes, Harry stopped in Hermione’s room and knocked on the door to see if she was up. “Morning, little brother,” she chirped as she opened her door. She grinned when Harry blinked at her stupidly as he processed what she called him. “Hey, I can’t call you that too much at school. So I’m gonna make sure it’s stuck in your head before we have to go back.”

Harry laughed. “Morning, Mia,” he said, hugging her. Together, they headed down for the kitchen. 

“Morning you two,” Jean said.

“Morning Mum,” Hermione said. Harry grinned as he automatically went to the cupboards and got out plates and glasses so they could set the table. “What time are we going to the mall?”

“Your father has a couple of early morning appointments today before we close the office for Christmas,” Jean explained, taking the cinnamon rolls out of the oven. “But probably mid-morning.”

Harry realized he had no idea what to get Jean and George for Christmas. Ron had never said he’d gotten anything for his parents or siblings, and Dudley was never required to. What did you get the people who gave you a family? Gave you love? He’d have to ask Hermione for suggestions based on what she normally got them before they left. Or maybe Jean would help him shop for George and vice versa.

Both Harry and Hermione brought down their notes from the previous term after breakfast. Hermione said she usually summarized her term notes over break into study material and organized all her notes by subject and date for future reference over the holiday so it was less work at the end of term. It certainly made sense to Harry. He paid close attention to her system, thinking it was far more organized than anything he would have come up with on his own. But, then, he wasn’t in the habit of studying much anyway, and following Hermione’s system would definitely help him improve in that way.

“Hello family,” called George, an hour later, as the front door opened.

“We’re in the kitchen, Daddy!” Hermione called out. When George entered the room, Hermione looked up and smiled at him. “Morning, Daddy. How was work?”

“Just fine, sweetheart,” George replied, running a hand over Hermione’s riotous curls. Then he ruffled Harry’s messy hair as well. Harry stiffened at the touch. He was no longer flinching away, but raised hands still made him nervous. During a family session with the Grangers, Harry’s therapist explained to them that this was normal and they all just had to be patient with each other. “Ready to go shopping after we eat a late breakfast?”

“Just about,” Harry replied. “Hermione’s teaching me how she organizes her study material to make exam review more efficient.”

“Sounds like our Hermione. I don’t know where she got bitten by the study bug but I hope you’re at least partially vaccinated.” George chuckled at his own joke. “It’d be nice to finally take in a footie match with my son, since my daughter has no interest.”

“I’d like that,” Harry said quietly. “So what else do you guys do at Christmas?” 

“We go to Christmas Carols, see the tree in Trafalgar Square, drive around some of the higher end neighborhoods to see their outdoor lights displays,” Hermione said cheerfully. She smirked at her mother teasingly. “We go to  _ Twelfth Night _ on Twelfth Night, sometimes we tolerate a football match on Boxing Day for Dad.”

“Hermione reads her weight in books,” George teased.

“At least she’s down to just her own weight,” Jean added, laughing. “Used to be double her weight. Of course, she’s growing up, so I don’t think that means the  _ amount _ of reading she does has changed.”

“Oh, that reminds me! While we’re shopping, I need to find a couple of modern history texts, something with basic explanation of genetics, and one on the development of technology, leading into computers,” Hermione said.

“That’s very specific, dear. Why those?” Jean asked.

“Some of our friends who grew up in the Wizarding world told us that many of their parents’ generation still see the rest of the world as it was four or five hundred years ago,” Harry said.

“So I want to take them some books they can read to ‘catch up’ to the modern world to some extent. I know electronics don’t work in Wizarding areas; something about electricity and magical energy being incompatible,” Hermione added with a grin. “I want to try to change that at some point, but I think I need a few more years of schooling before I have those kind of skills.”

“Speaking of combining the normal and magical worlds,” Jean began tentatively. “We received an invitation in the mail for the whole family to visit the Weasleys for Boxing Day this year.”

Harry and Hermione both froze for a second and George frowned. “If you’re anticipating problems with Ron, we don’t have to go,” he said. “We haven’t replied yet.”

The kids exchanged a glance, then shrugged. “It’s only Ronald we have a problem with, honestly,” Hermione finally said. “The rest of the Weasleys that we’ve met are pretty great. Ginny is sweet, and Fred and George are bright and funny. Percy apologized to both Harry and myself on behalf of the family, and I told him we wouldn’t hold a grudge against the Weasleys in general…”

“I think if all four of us are going, and the whole Weasley clan is going to be there… we’ll be okay,” Harry said. “If two sets of parents and at least three older brothers can’t keep Ron in check, we have bigger problems.”

“I’ll write them and accept, then,” Jean said. “And if Ron can’t hold his tongue, we can always leave early.”

“No Boxing Day footie for me, I suppose,” George sighed dramatically, but his eyes were laughing.

“No, but you might get to watch a small-team family Quidditch match!” Harry said excitedly. “I’ll have to remember to bring my broom!”

“Another sport for you to ignore, sweetheart?” George teased Hermione.

“Well, I certainly don’t enjoy it the way Harry does. But I go to the House matches because Harry is on the Gryffindor team and I want to support him and our other friends,” Hermione admitted. “Though I do usually bring along a book, just in case.”

“I’m sorry if it takes a few hours to spot a flying ball the size of a golf ball,” Harry teased.

“Flying ball?” George asked, and Harry launched into a basic explanation of Quidditch. George hung on Harry’s every word as Jean ushered them out the door and into the car, Hermione already reading the book she’d brought along. Listening to Harry talk, Jean made the connection to the posters Hermione had suggested for Harry’s room.

“So you’re the team Seeker?” George asked.

Harry nodded. “The youngest in about a century. My dad was a Chaser for the same team so I feel like it lets me have a connection to him.”

George nodded. “That’s why I watch football,” he agreed. “My dad always watched it while I was growing up. Sometimes he comes over and we watch together. It’s a connection.”

Hermione and Jean shared a look.  _ Boys _ .

Harry was a little overwhelmed when they arrived at the mall. He actually had very little exposure to the muggle world. Outside of Mrs. Figg, the Dursleys, and school, Harry rarely was taken anywhere. Even class trips, the Dursleys would never sign the permission slip, explaining everything from groundings to medical problems. So the accidental magic that had set the boa constrictor loose, for example, had been the first time he’d ever been to a zoo. 

The mall was crowded, adults and kids everywhere. They paused just inside the doorway for some last-minute instructions. “Okay, kids, here’s the deal,” George said. “You stick as close as possible to whichever of us you’re with. If you see something you want to look at, grab a hand and let us know. Don’t just wander over and look. If you do get separated from us, stay where you are for fifteen minutes. If we don’t find you in that time, then go find a security guard. Understand?”

“Um, Dad?” Hermione ventured. “Before we split up, maybe we could stop at the watch stand? You said last year that we’d try to find me a mechanical-only watch that would work at home and at school, and maybe we can get Harry one too? Fifteen minutes is a  _ long time _ if you don’t have a way to keep track.”

“That’s a good idea,” Jean seconded. “And even if we end up with something you have to leave at home when you go back to school, it’s still probably a good idea for holidays and summers.”

“What do you think, Harry? Should we go get you two watches?” George asked, smiling.

“Sure,” Harry agreed with a shrug. At least a watch, particularly given their current instructions, made sense. He was having a harder time with the idea that he’d be getting Christmas gifts just for fun, and an even more difficult time wrapping his head around the idea that he didn’t have to pay for any of it.

They managed to find a couple of analogue watches that Hermione thought might work at Hogwarts, but couldn’t know for sure without knowing the specifics of the limits of Hogwarts magic. They were relatively inexpensive, though; both because they lacked any of the fancy features of the more expensive watches and also because if they broke upon returning to Hogwarts, they wouldn’t have ruined something really nice. 

The first half of the day, Jean went off with Hermione and George went with Harry. He bought some small Boxing Day gifts for each of the Weasleys, then bought more personal gifts to send to Fred and George, Neville, and Luna. He also bought gifts for Draco and Theo, but he thought it was wiser to wait until everyone was at Hogwarts and give them presents in person. He wasn’t entirely sure what to give Jean, but George had some amazing suggestions, and accidentally landed on _The_ _Encyclopedia of the History of Witches in the United Kingdom_ that he thought was perfect for Hermione.

They met back up for a late lunch in the food court; Harry was amazed at the variety of choices. Just about everything from pizza to fried chicken to Indian curry was offered at one of the various food counters. “I… I don’t even know what to try,” Harry said, bemused.

“Well, Hermione says you get chicken a lot at school,” George said. “Do you like spicy foods? The Indian place has a chicken curry.”

“I’d like to go to the Japanese place, please,” Hermione asked politely. “The seafood udon sounds delicious today.”

Harry let George order for him, the man quietly connecting that Harry obviously hadn’t ever been out to eat and was rather overwhelmed by all the choices. At Hogwarts he just ate what was in front of him. After the long years at the Dursleys, just being allowed to eat his fill was something he’d had to adjust to. Getting to choose what he ate was… well it was almost too much. After ordering, the family located and sat around a table, then tucked into their food; they pointedly let Harry try out this new food experience at his own pace.

About halfway through her meal, Hermione turned to Harry. “Would you like to try a little of mine, Harry? If you like it, maybe you can get your own next time.”

“I, uh, sure,” Harry stammered. He watched her flip her chopsticks around neatly and scoop him up a couple of long thick noodles from the pale broth. She held them out to Harry, assuming he wouldn’t know what to do with chopsticks.

Harry chewed on the sticky noodles but found the flavor light and pleasant. “Not bad,” he said when he swallowed.

“There’s different kinds, of course. Chicken, beef, shrimp. Mine is mixed seafood, so there’s shrimp and scallops and a bit of crab meat,” Hermione explained in a low voice.

“Definitely different from what they serve at school,” Harry said with a smile.

Hermione laughed. “If only they knew what’s happened in the world since the Dark Ages…”

Harry smiled at her. “We’ll work on it,” he promised her.

“So,” George inquired. “What’s the verdict on curry, Harry? Do you like it?”

Harry nodded, looking down and noticing he’d demolished the curry. “Yeah,” he agreed.

“Try some naan,” George encouraged

The naan was also very good. As everyone finished their plates and parted ways again, Jean turned to Harry expectantly. “Where to, luv?” 

“The sports store?” Harry asked.

Harry almost immediately found what he was looking for for George… for his Dad. A football and a little practice footie net for the back garden. 

“Harry, you know you don’t have to,” Jean said gently. “George loves football, but you don’t have to love it if you don’t want to.”

“I always… when I was growing up, I always thought my Dad might have taught me, if he’d lived.” He went red and looked away. “I mean… things are different now that I know, but I always wanted someone to teach me.”

“I think he’d love to,” Jean said. With the ball and net purchased and gift wrapped, they put it in the car, then returned to the bookstore. “Go on Harry, it’s okay to pick some things out,” Jean encouraged. Harry found himself gravitating towards the lengthy classic novels that Hermione often read, despite his age. Now that he wasn’t hiding his knowledge, Jean, Hermione, and George quickly caught on that Harry could read quite a bit above grade level. Once or twice, Jean asked if Harry wanted his own copy of a book he was perusing. Harry thought the stack of the books he wanted was a bit much, until he saw Hermione’s stack, which was more than double Harry’s. Jean gave him a look as if she were saying  _ “see?” _

There were a few that Jean mentioned the family already owned, though she said it was fine if he wanted his own copy. There were a couple that he kind of wanted for himself, but others he put back saying he was happy to read the family copy.

It was getting late when the family wrapped up their shopping. The Grangers promised they would make a trip to Diagon Alley the next day, and they headed home gratefully. The adults helped their kids haul bags and boxes upstairs to their respective rooms and then left them alone.

“Do you need help wrapping gifts, Harry?” Hermione asked matter-of-factly. “You can come to my room and we can do the ones for our parents and friends together, if you’d like.”

Harry nodded. Since the Dursleys never gave him gifts, and never gave him money to buy gifts, Harry was rather inexperienced with tape, wrapping paper, and ribbons. Hermione went to the hall closet and dragged out a large box with over a dozen tubes of wrapping paper sticking out the top. Further down the box were ribbons, bows and gift tags.

“Mum shops for this stuff when they all go on sale after Christmas, so we don’t spend as much money and have a lot of options,” Hermione explained as Harry helped her haul the box into her room.

They laughed together as Hermione showed Harry the easiest ways to measure paper for the boxes, and they took turns holding the folded edges down while the other wielded strips of scotch tape. They had a great deal of fun turning out a pile of gaily decorated packages for family and friends. Most of them weren’t perfect, despite all Hermione’s attempts to make them so, but Harry loved the imperfections all the more. It showed that they had worked together to put care into gift giving.

The run up to Christmas was a series of days that Harry thought were the best of times each day, only for the next to be better. They baked with Jean, decorating biscuits and pastries with bright sugars and sprinkles in celebration of the season. They went out for a drive in the evening to see other families’ outdoor lights; Harry and Hermione giggled at some of the more ostentatious displays.

Christmas Eve was another first for Harry, as he helped George set up the tree, and then the whole family got together to decorate it. Christmas carols played in the background, and Hermione sang along in a sweet voice as she hung ornaments from the branches. Jean would join her occasionally, her voice lower and a pleasing contrast to Hermione’s. George didn’t sing, but he would hum once in a while or tap his toes to the beat of the song. They all encouraged Harry to sing along, especially with the repetitive ones like “Twelve Days of Christmas.”

Harry couldn’t sleep on Christmas Eve. He was too wound up from the day, not to mention anticipating the next morning. Apparently Hermione couldn’t sleep either; she tapped lightly on his door and crawled into bed next to him when he invited her in. Hermione confessed that she often had a hard time falling asleep before Christmas, and though it had never happened to Harry before, he understood because it was how he felt at the time. They talked and laughed over some of the more unique aspects of the holiday, muggle versus wizarding, and cuddled comfortably together until finally they both fell asleep.

Christmas Day was the best yet. He and Hermione woke right around the same time, and Hermione assured him it was perfectly acceptable to go down for Christmas morning in their pjs. Harry had just as much fun giving out gifts and watching the family’s reactions as he had in opening his own. Aside from school books and supplies, Harry had never before owned so many  _ things. _ And not just things, but gifts meant specifically for him, for no reason other than they thought he would enjoy them. He was rather overwhelmed by the time they stopped for brunch, and in the afternoon he was happy to settle down with Hermione to read some of their new books. Crookshanks curled up between them, and both Harry and Hermione absently petted him as they moved to turn pages.

George loved the football gear, and Harry had been given a book of a hundred movies to see before you die, a joke giant tea mug that said, “Do I look like a freaking morning person?” and several maths books, among other things.

“How’d you know?” Harry asked. “I mean, I loved maths in muggle school.”

“We know. The Dursleys gave up your report cards. Your maths teachers always raved about you. The marks were even better than Hermione’s scores,” Jean said.

Hermione’s jaws dropped. “How? I’ve got a 95% average.”

“Harry’s never missed a question on a single maths test,” George said, sounding a bit tickled. “Apparently several of them said you were massively bored in most of the classes and kept recommending the Dursleys let you skip a grade.”

“Really?” Harry asked, amazed. He had thought he’d done a good job of hiding his intelligence so that he didn’t get into trouble, but apparently people had noticed. Perhaps they’d also realized that he had reasons for what he did and that was why he’d never heard about it from the Dursleys.

“See, you’re not just a jock,” Hermione teased. “You’re a brain too.”

“Welcome to the Dark Side,” George joked. “We have cookies.”

Harry was brought out of his reveling and gave George a blank look. “What?”

George’s whole face lit up. “Oh, you just wait!” he exclaimed.

That evening, the whole family snuggled up together with bowls of salted popcorn and hot cocoa, watching  _ A New Hope _ . It was the perfect end to the best Christmas Harry had ever had. Just as she crawled into bed, Hermione palmed her AA coin. She concentrated and whispered the activation - hoping it wouldn’t be enough to trip the trace, because she wasn’t using her wand - and sent out the message, 

_ Happy Christmas to you all. See you soon. -Athena. _

It was an early morning for the Granger clan. It was six in the morning when Jean and George poured them into the family car while they were still blinking away the sleep with thermoses of more hot chocolate, snacks, and books. It was a four-hour drive to the Weasleys, but with holiday traffic, it was closer to eleven when they pulled up to the Burrow. Harry’s jaw dropped and Hermione’s eyes got huge. The house looked like several houses stacked on top of each other, but not in a straight line. The house defied gravity and the basic laws of physics. It didn’t seem like it was physically possible, and was definitely held up by magic. 

Molly Weasley, Ron’s mother, rushed out to greet them. She looked as if she wanted to scoop Harry up into a hug, but Hermione kept her fingers twined with her brother’s and Mrs. Weasley stopped short, hugging the pair of them briefly and together. When Mrs. Weasley turned to hold her hands out to the adult Grangers, Harry shot Hermione a brief look of gratitude. Mrs. Weasley could be overwhelming, and he was glad they’d found a way to get her to tone it down a bit.

“Oi, Gred!” Forge called out. “Look who’s here!”

“Our two favorite second years!” Gred replied, grinning.

“And some parents,” Forge added. “Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Happy Christmas!”

“Happy Christmas Gred and Forge,” George said cheerfully. “Did you have a good holiday?”

“It was decent…” Gred started.

“... except Mum bans pranking during Christmas dinner.” Forge finished.

“There have been several times in years passed when we have found some fairly interesting things in the Christmas pudding,” Arthur explained, smiling good-naturedly. “Everyone is in the back. When the twins saw you coming up the road they wanted to come greet you.”

They were led to a very large back garden containing a slightly smaller number of redheads, since Molly and the twins were escorting the Grangers. There was only one unfamiliar face amongst the familiar ones, and Hermione turned to Gred who stood by her side. “One if the infamous older brothers, I’m guessing?” she asked with good humor, nodding towards the stranger.

“As if he’d be anything else,” Gred replied. He and Forge tugged Harry and Hermione over to introduce their older brother. “This is Charlie, our second eldest brother. Charlie, this is Hermione Granger and Harry Potter. Harry’s staying with the Grangers over the hols this year.”

Charlie Weasley was tall and heavily freckled, like he’d been out in the sun a lot. He also had several old burns and burn scars on his arms. He extended a heavily calloused hand to shake Harry’s. Harry took it. “Wotcher,” Charlie said with a smile. He then took Hermione’s hand. “Welcome to the Burrow. Harry, I hear you’re Gryffindor’s first decent seeker since I was at Hogwarts. Did you bring your broomstick?”

Harry’s face lit up, “Yeah,” he said. “Fred and George said you had some kind of practice pitch?”

Charlie nodded. “It’s not much, but yeah, we do have a stretch of land that we use for Quidditch. And our neighbors are far enough away that they don’t see us flying.”

Harry turned to Hermione, “You should definitely let your Dad know. He really wants to see some Quidditch action after we talked about it a few days ago.”

Hermione knew he’d made the suggestion to her so he didn’t accidentally call her father Dad in front of the Weasleys. It was starting to slip into his speech now and then, and Hermione didn’t mind covering for him. “I’ll tell him. Mum and I will probably stay where it’s warm.”

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had set up a large table full of food and chairs for everyone. Harry noticed that when he got near the table, everything warmed up until he was sweating in his winter gear. Jean and George were impressed. “It’s like you have outdoor space heaters out here,” he said. 

“I’m sorry?” Arthur said, immediately interested. “What do you mean?”

“In our world we have these tall, electric-powered heaters for when we’re outdoors in late fall and winter. It helps it to be not as cold in a set area,” Jean clarified.

“Fascinating,” Arthur said. “So it runs on eceltricity? How does that work?”

Jean and George exchanged a look. “Well, since the Wizarding world doesn’t have science class, the most basic way to explain it is that it’s man-made lightning,” George said. 

Arthur raised both eyebrows and Harry fought back laughter. 

“You can’t be serious,” Molly protested. “You can’t make lightning without magic.”

“Actually, you can,” Hermione spoke up, keeping her tone as polite as possible while trying not to snicker. “Um… can someone transfigure me a small piece of silk and an amber sphere?” Charlie handed her the requested items, an intrigued look on his face. Hermione demonstrated creating static electricity and showed everyone how a static spark would jump between people.

“That’s obviously a very small amount of electricity, but the Muggle world has harnessed the ability to create such power in larger quantities,” Jean said when Hermione was finished.

“That’s actually really impressive,” Charlie said. “Controlled electricity has a lot of uses.”

Harry nodded. “Almost everything conducts some portion of electricity. In muggle primary school one of the things we go over is how to harness electricity from a potato. Though potatoes actually have very little electricity. Batteries last far longer.”

“Batteries have electricity?” Arthur asked. “I mean, I collect them myself…”

“Batteries are what power pretty much anything we have that’s portable, from radios to calculators to cars.”

“Fascinating. The things that muggles come up with because they don’t have magic,” Arthur said in an awed tone. Harry had to bite back his laughter at George Granger’s face. He looked completely unimpressed. Harry supposed from his… dad’s position, magic was nice, but the Wizarding world had a lot of time to make up for. The muggle world certainly had a lot more checks and balances than letting a school administrator drop a baby off at a place where the adults hated him.

“I see that Hermione was right, darling,” Jean said in a falsely saccharine tone as she looped her arm through George’s. “Wizards are terribly behind the times. I can see now why she wanted the history books she asked for.”

“Of course she wanted more books,” Ron muttered, though Harry was pretty sure half the group heard him.

“History books, you say?” Charlie asked, guiding Hermione to a seat and sitting next to her with an expression of interest while the twins glared at Ron. Harry jumped into the seat on Hermione’s other side, and the twins quickly took places across from them. Food began passing around the table.

Hermione nodded. “Neville Longbottom is a friend of ours. He told me that most of the Wizarding world still sees Muggles as they were four or five hundred years ago. The changes we’ve made to our world in even the past fifty years have been amazing, let along the past few hundred. So I asked my Mum to get me some books I could bring back to Hogwarts to loan to anyone interested in learning more about it. I’ve heard that Muggle Studies doesn’t really get into the present day.”

Charlie smiled. “That’s a wonderful idea. Perhaps you could recommend a few of them to me?” Hermione blushed and nodded.

“Hermione is an amazingly bright witch,” Forge said with a teasing smile.

“I bet she could teach muggle studies, if she put her mind to it,” Gred added.

“I’m pretty sure it would be more realistic than the current class is,” Forge continued, making a face. “Elec… Electricity,” he paused, glancing at Hermione, who nodded encouragement, “hasn’t even been mentioned this term. The majority of it we talked about the World Wars, which sound horrible.”

“They were,” Hermione said softly. “My parents could probably tell you more about it. My grandparents lived through the second World War.”

“I mean, honestly it’s hard to condense the entire muggle world into a single class,” Jean said thoughtfully. “There’s all the scientific discoveries and maths and equal rights for all sorts of minorities, and various religious movements… us muggles go through at least thirteen years of schooling, and many of us go through more at University. History is taught at basically every grade level, and builds upon each yet so that young adults have a good grasp on the past of our whole world. And that’s not even touching studies like Comparative Religions or Cultural Anthropology.”

“Those who do not know their own past are doomed to repeat it, after all,” George said with a solemn expression.

“And some do anyway,” Harry grumbled, but then shook himself. He was past those difficult years. Hermione squeezed his hand gently.

Charlie caught the small gestures between Harry and Hermione and glanced at Ron, suddenly realizing the source of his little brother’s whining. “You two have gotten quite close the past two years, looks like?” he asked casually after a few moments of quiet eating.

Hermione smiled and her expression brightened. “Harry’s like the little brother I never had but often wished for. When we started at Hogwarts, neither of us knew anyone there at all. When we became friends, it was just one more thing to bond over.”

The twins nodded knowingly, and Charlie chuckled. “Well, given that we have an abundance of siblings… I can see how you’d want one of your own at times. Must have been lonely, growing up just you and your parents.”

“Sometimes,” Hermione shrugged. “But it’s okay. I prefer to focus on what I’ve gained rather than what I used to miss.”

“Hermione’s a great older sister,” Harry chimed in after swallowing his mouthful. “She’s taught me a lot, and she always has my back.”

Ron snorted and Charlie shot his brother a disapproving look.

“Hermione’s actually quite sneaky,” Gred added. “She’s good at pranking, even though she doesn’t always love doing it.”

“Not much of a rule-breaker, unless she feels it’s important,” Forge added teasingly, though he kept his voice low enough that their collective parents - on the other end of the table - shouldn’t hear him.

“I get that,” Charlie said. “I remember this one time, my friend Tonks was getting teased by a bunch of Gryffindors and I let her in so she could get her revenge.”

“Why was she being teased?” Harry asked, squeezing Hermione’s hand to comfort her. She was always bothered every time bullying came up.

“She’s a Hufflepuff,” Charlie said. “A lot of people called her the standard names, told her things like Hufflepuff House doesn’t have a password because if they manage to find the house they get let in, or Hufflepuffs are so dumb they’re the dunces of the Wizarding world. Or Hufflepuff house is the Disabled Access house.” Charlie frowned. “Tonks is one of the smartest, strongest people that I know.”

“How’d she prank them?” Forge asked. 

Charlie grinned. “Her dad’s a muggle-born so she got her hands on something called Gorilla Glue and stuck Dunce caps onto the bullies’ heads. I think it took Madame Pomfrey three days before she figured out it wasn’t a hex or a curse, just regular muggle glue.”

Harry and Hermione chuckled, knowing that if this Tonks person had Gorilla glued those hats to the students hair, the students would have been bald for a little while while Madame Pomfrey grew the hair back. 

“Did it work?” Gred asked.

Charlie chuckled himself and nodded. “It was one of those Hogwarts secrets that it was Tonks who’d done it. So everyone knew but no one could prove it.”

“I’m glad you helped her when she was being bullied. And I would like to meet her sometime, I think,” Hermione said softly. 

Charlie studied her expression, took in the knowing look in her eyes, and nodded just as solemnly back. “It was the right thing to do. And I think an introduction could be arranged for sometime in the future. She and I keep in touch.”

“Sticking up for your friends is important,” Harry agreed. He and Hermione pointedly avoided looking in Ron’s direction.

With a glance at the twins, Charlie flicked his wand at the middle of the table. It separated the five of them from Ron, Ginny and all four parents with a sound-muffling spell. “We’ve all heard Ron whining since he got home,” he said in a low voice. “Would you tell us your side of it while they can’t hear us, please?”

Harry blinked. “The twins were there. They stopped me from taking a swing at him.”

“I heard,” Charlie said with a nod. “But there’s more to the story than what’s immediately obvious; there always is. So, I’m asking you to tell me about it.”

Hermione met Forge’s eyes, and then Gred’s. She glanced at Charlie and then back again with a question in her eyes. They both nodded slightly; Charlie could be trusted.

“Tell him, Harry,” Hermione said quietly. “The twins have us figured out already, anyway. We trust them to know if their brother is safe to talk to, yeah?”

“The place that I was left after my parents died…” Harry started quietly, blushing hard. “It wasn’t nearly as nice as the Ministry has made it out to be. My aunt and uncle… they abused me as often as they could.” Charlie looked rather horrified. Harry continued to explain. “Hermione recognized the signs last year and wrote her parents. Because I have a birth certificate, guardianship papers and more from existing in the Muggle world, the Grangers offered to transfer guardianship. My Aunt and Uncle signed the papers without looking at them… and the Grangers picked me up from the Express last year. I’ve been living with them since. A few days ago, they adopted me. To prevent any magical intervention, Hermione and I blood bonded while we were at school. This is my sister, in every way and  _ nobody _ talks about her the way that Ron did.”

“So when Ron was going off on Hermione, you were defending your sister,” Charlie said, nodding. “Considering I’d probably get violent if anyone ever said things like that about Ginny, I can understand why you did it. But Harry, why didn’t you tell anyone?”

Harry knew what Charlie was referring to. “My first letter from Hogwarts was addressed to ‘Mr. H. Potter, Cupboard Under the Stairs’ which was where I slept. I didn’t know the Ministry had sold everyone on me having some fairy tale life. I thought everyone knew my life was hell, and didn’t care. It’s not like child abuse is taken care of well in the wizarding world. The fact that the Head of a Family is the only one who can report it means that the Head of the Family can abuse kids without any consequences and those without a Head of the Family doesn’t have any options.”

Charlie nodded, “You have a point.” 

“I tried to tell the teachers my concern first year but they ignored it,” Hermione explained. “I didn't know what else to do, so I wrote my parents. Even then, Harry was one of my best friends. I just wanted him to be safe.”

“We’re not telling anyone partly because it’s no one’s business and partly because… because this is one thing that’s mine.” Harry explained. “Something no one can judge because they don’t know it.”

“And if Mum and Dad know, they’d tell Dumbledore and Fudge which would complicate things,” Gred put in.

“Harry’s never allowed to be a kid before,” Hermione said. “He deserves a childhood. A real one.”

Charlie and the twins all grinned at her. “Bit of a spitfire, aren't you?” Charlie laughed. “You're a sweet girl, Hermione, and I'm glad at least some of my brothers have the sense to be on your good side.”

Harry shrugged. “Last year, going through that trap door… it changed all of us. Ron sacrificed himself for us to move forward and I’ll always be grateful but…” Harry went silent. He took a deep breath. “Have you ever heard of the Mirror of Erised?”

Charlie nodded. “It’s supposed to show you what you desire most deeply.”

“I faced it twice my first year. I saw a family,” Harry said quietly. “One that was  _ mine _ . One that I belonged to. And Hermione just handed it to me without a word. I owe Ron for injuring himself so we could stop Quirrell, but I… you can’t imagine what I owe Hermione.”

“You don't owe me anything, Harry,” Hermione insisted. “That's what family is supposed to mean. I love you, little brother, and you love me. That's all I need.”

“Just do me one favor,” Charlie asked. Harry and Hermione looked at him curiously. “Let me be there when you tell Mum and Dad you were adopted without anyone knowing?”

All five of them laughed and eventually the conversation turned to Harry’s first Quidditch game and him swallowing the snitch. Charlie lifted whatever spell he’d used to separate the conversations and Ginny soon joined in. Eventually they were finally excused from the table and allowed to hop on their brooms. Hermione stayed behind and read, but looked up every few paragraphs. 

They couldn’t play with the snitch or bludgers, so they played three-on-three with the Quaffle. Forge and Gred weren’t allowed to be on the same team, so Forge, Harry, and Charlie played against Gred, Ron, and Ginny. Harry’s team seemed to instantly click and easily gained an advantage. Ron was grumpy by the time they reordered the teams, switching Ginny for Charlie. Again, Harry’s team had the edge. George Granger, who had stayed outside to watch for a while, decided to head inside at the team-switch to warm up and rejoin the adults.

“Where’d you learn moves like that?” Charlie asked, laughing after Harry managed to score a goal by flipping upside-down on his broom at the last second to dodge Gred. 

Harry shrugged “I don’t know. Our chasers are amazing. Something probably rubbed off.”

“You wouldn't just happen to like watching the girls, would you?” Gred teased, laughing.

“Well he’s already got an in. Hermione can give him tips on the Gryffindor girls,” Forge said, laughing so hard he nearly fell off his broom. 

“Why do you think Tonks was my best friend?” Charlie added, also laughing. Ginny was giggling.

“She’s not,” Ron snapped. Harry felt the laughter die in the air, exchanged for awkwardness. “She’s just using you for your blood status and your money. Just because I’m the only one who sees it doesn’t mean it’s not true.”

“No,” Harry responded firmly. “You’re wrong. Hermione cares about me.”

“If it weren’t for us last year, she wouldn’t even have any friends,” Ron went on. “And then she had to go and steal you away from me!”

Harry saw red. Nobody talked about his sister that way! “No, Ron!” Harry shouted back. “The one who wants my fame and status is  _ you _ ! You just want to be able to say that you’re friends with The Boy Who Lived; Hermione’s totally the opposite. She doesn’t care about my fame or my money. She cares about  _ me _ !”

Charlie flew in between the two boys, flicking a silencing spell at Ron before he could retort further. “You are so far out of line right now, Ron. Think very carefully before you do anything else you’ll regret.”

Looking around, Harry noticed that the twins were flanking him on either side, and Ginny was beside Ron, but facing him and with her wand out. 

Less than a minute later, Hermione stood below them, her wand out and her stance defiant. She’d obviously noticed something amiss when she looked up from her reading. “If you’re being a prat to Harry again, Ronald, so help me, I  _ will _ make you regret it!”

“I’m on it, Hermione,” Charlie said calmly. Ron, within his silencing spell, was clearly trying to scream something down at Hermione. Harry was glad she wouldn’t have to actually hear it.

Harry snapped. “That’s it. I’m done. I’m done standing up for you. I’m done defending you. I’m not going to hold the school back if they land on a shut out.” He turned to the others. “I’m really sorry, but I think it’s time that we go. I’ve clearly overstayed my welcome.”

“I’ll go tell Mum and Dad,” Hermione offered. Harry nodded and Hermione took off back towards the house. She found her parents in the kitchen, chatting with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley over tea. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mummy, but Harry is ready to go home and I think it’s a good idea.”

“What? No, Hermione, you’ve only been here a few hours,” Mrs. Weasley protested.

“And you’ve given us a very warm welcome,” Hermione answered politely. “But I think there are some problems that we’re not going to be able to resolve today.”

Jean looked sharply at Hermione and nodded. “Of course, sweetheart. We’ll be right out.” She turned to Molly and Arthur. “We are very grateful for your hospitality and the chance to get to know you better. Thank you very much for the invitation. Perhaps next time we can stay longer, but it is going to get dark soon and we have a long drive ahead of us.”

“We understand,” Arthur said, setting a hand on Molly’s shoulder as her jaw dropped in protest. “Please have a safe trip home and know that you are welcome to visit us anytime.”

“Goodbye, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Thank you for the holiday invitation,” Hermione said with a smile before heading back out the door to check on Harry.

Harry was sitting on the stoop, so mad he couldn’t speak. Forge sat protectively nearby, though the rest of the Weasleys were still out of sight. “I’m sorry about him,” Forge said. Harry grunted. “Jealousy’s always been an issue for Ron and Percy. They both want… I don’t know what they want. It’s like they can’t deal with how we live.” Harry snorted angrily. “We grew up… well, there’s never been much money but we had a lot of love. I know you’d give your vault to have grown up like that. Ron’s too young to understand.”

Hermione put a gentle hand on Harry’s arm, sitting beside him and resting her head on his shoulder. “In some ways, I’m glad he can’t imagine anything worse than living his own life. Money certainly isn’t everything; I’ve never lacked for either money or love, but if I had to choose between them I would choose love every time.” Hermione sighed. “But at the same time, I wish he’d grow up and realize that Harry had it worse. And that name-calling and screaming at someone is not the way to repair a damaged friendship.”

George and Jean walked out of the house just then, and Hermione tugged Harry’s arm. “We’re ready, Mum, Dad.”

Forge stood up and held out a hand to Mr. and Mrs. Granger. “Thank you for sharing the holiday with us, and bringing Harry and Hermione to see us. I’m… sorry the day is ending this way.”

“I’m sure it’s not your fault,” Jean said, then hesitated over the name.

“Forge,” Hermione volunteered, giving the twin a small smile.

“Thank you for looking after Harry for us, Forge, and I’m sure we’ll see you again,” Jean finished. Harry turned and offered Forge a very small smile, then got in the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who have asked when/if Ron will pull his head out of his arse... well, neither of us has anything specific against Ron, but a stubborn 12 year old isn't likely going to change quickly. So... perhaps in time, but we'll have to see. :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New Year's and the end of the holiday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're still getting amazing responses and reactions to this story, and we love hearing from you all! So many people are enthusiastic about Fred and George Weasley, about how Harry and Hermione interact, and how the Granger Family has adapted. We hope you continue to enjoy, and definitely to let us know about it!
> 
> Apologies this is so late! Winter was on vacation and Nerdy had meetings all day. Enjoy!!

_Not quite right for the season, but they are adorable!_

* * *

 

**Chapter 8**

Jean and George were quiet when they first got in the car, respecting that Hermione had more ability to help Harry when he was in a mood like this.

Hermione sat on the middle seat in the back, leaned up against Harry. He had his arm around her shoulders in a tightly protective grip. “You were defending me again, weren’t you?” she asked Harry in a low voice. He gave a very small nod.  “Thank you, little brother.”

“I’m done with him,” Harry told her in a low growl. “He doesn’t get to say things like that, and especially not about you.”

“I won’t ask. I assume it’s basically more of the same,” Hermione responded lightly. “But if you want to talk about it, you know I’m here. Or just talk about how you’re feeling, maybe? Like we did with the therapist sometimes.”

Harry closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “I’m just so… so angry,” Harry replied, and Hermione kept herself from rolling her eyes in a ‘duh’ sort of way. “I know Forge said jealousy is Ron’s biggest problem, but I don’t know how he thinks attacking you is the way back to being my friend.”

“I expect he’s not really thinking, Harry,” Hermione offered in reply. “Just like how you’re so angry right now you can hardly talk about it, Ron is so absorbed in his own feelings that all he can do is lash out. That doesn’t make it right, of course, or acceptable. But anger makes people do stupid things sometimes.”

Harry picked up on the hurt in Hermione’s voice, though she tried to hide it. Ron had once been her friend, too. But then, Harry also remembered that Ron was also the one who made Hermione upset enough to cry in the girls loo the prior year. “I’m glad I have you to keep me from being stupid, then,” Harry finally said. “I just… Sometimes I wonder if Ron became friends with me in the first place because I was famous.”

“I think that may have been part of his motivation,” Hermione answered softly. “But I think he really came to like you a lot, Harry. He sacrificed his own chess piece so we could move on, after all. And this year he’s been afraid he’s losing you because you and I have gotten closer.”

“What about you?” Harry asked softly, unable to contain the hurt in his voice. “Did you become friends with me because I’m famous?”

“I became friends with you because you’re kind, and caring, and fun to be around, you prat.  Out of an entire school, you were the only one who remembered I was in the loo and you ran to rescue me from a troll without a second thought,” Hermione answered, soothing his hurt as best she could. “I was impressed by what I knew of you from the books I’d read, of course. You knew that already. But when you came to save me, you showed me a person who really cares about other people, and  _ that _ is why I became your friend. Because you were worth getting to know, and I could see that you were a wonderful person. And I have to say it’s the best decision I’ve ever made. You don’t have to be rich or famous for me to like you, Harry. You just have to be  _ you _ .” Harry went silent again, staring out the window.

“It’s not just about me, either,” Hermione went on when Harry didn’t speak. “You went after Neville’s Remembrall when Malfoy took it. And you never got mad at him when his potions exploded and you got caught in it. You’re loyal to your Quidditch team mates; you visit when they’re in the hospital from a training accident and you always try your hardest when playing because you want them to be like you on your own merits and not because of your fame. While you may not have appreciated my study habits first year, you still listened when you weren’t sure what to do and I had an idea. You, Harry Potter, are a worthwhile person to be friends with. And I know I’m not the only one who thinks so. You listened to  _ Draco _ and gave him hope.”

“I know it hurts,” Jean interjected softly. “You thought someone liked you for you and you found out it was a lie. People are going to want to hang around you because of your fame, so it’s important to figure out who likes you for you. It’ll just take some practice. ”

George was as quiet as Harry was, neither responding. Ron had been his first friend. He tried to remember how Ron had been before and after Harry had revealed himself to be Harry Potter. Harry had been so excited about getting to go to school far away from the Dursleys that he hadn’t cared about about people’s reactions to him, like how’d they reacted on his first trip into Diagon Alley.

Harry’s initial impression of Ron had been of friendliness and a wry sense of humor. Yes, they goofed off more than they should have their first year, but they’d also had a lot of fun. Adding Hermione to the mix had been great, too. The three of them worked well together, even if Hermione did nag them about their homework - she was also always there to help when they needed it. Ron in particular leaned on Hermione’s intelligence and keen interest in learning all things magical, but sometimes Ron had been resistant to Hermione, like he didn’t want to share Harry.

Ron had also never paid attention to any of the things that Hermione picked up on. Whenever Harry was uneasy or uncertain about something, Hermione was right there to try to help, offer encouragement or support. Ron constantly traded insults with Draco and the other Slytherins; Hermione mostly ignored them to the best of her ability. Even when they were calling her names and insulting her desire to achieve, she did her best to just let it roll off her back. Ron’s attitude would’ve gotten them in far more fights, if not for Hermione’s cool head.

Harry wondered what would have been different if Ron hadn’t been at his side, insulting Malfoy and encouraging Harry to refuse the offer of friendship that had been made initially. If Malfoy hadn’t insulted right back, and if Hagrid hadn’t warned Harry away from Slytherin. Doubtless he still wouldn’t have gotten to know Hermione right away. But he liked to think he would still have gone after her when he found out about the troll, especially since he’d been on hand to hear - if not participate - in the insults thrown her way that finally made her break down and cry.

Harry frowned. He was done letting other people make Hermione cry. She was his sister, and nobody did that and got away with it. Teasing was fine; she gave as good as she got on that score, but Harry was done standing by while people hurt her. That was what the AA was all about, after all - making sure they all had a safe space where they couldn’t be hurt. Still, it hurt to lose a friend. The other Weasleys seemed to believe that they would be dealing with Ron themselves since Ron’s attitude continued, and Harry couldn’t help but be curious about what they were going to do. 

Harry was rather surprised when they pulled off the main road. They pulled into the parking lot of a Chinese restaurant. “You guys go ahead, we’ll be there in a minute,” George said to Jean and Hermione, who both looked at Harry in concern. 

Jean nodded and led a hesitant Hermione inside while George sat down with Harry on the curb that divided the parking lot and the sidewalk. He was silent for a minute, then said. “When I was about your age, my best friend pantsed me in front of the whole school.” 

Harry’s eyes went wide. “Really? Why?” he asked.

“The coolest boy in school dared him to. My friend was desperate to be cool, so he did it,” George explained. “It changed both of us. He started hanging out with the cool kids. I started knuckling down and really studying. I didn’t come from the best neighborhood and not many of us ever think we can make it out of there… He and I never really spoke again. I hear what he’s up to every once in a while. He’s been in and out of prison since he was sixteen. Last I heard he got a job as a garbage collector. Meanwhile, I made it out, and because I did I met Jean.”

“I don’t understand,” Harry admitted, confused.

“It took a long time before I realized that I couldn’t have affected my ex-best friend’s actions. He made his own choices. Sometimes people grow apart, so just because someone was your first and best friend doesn’t mean it will always be that way. Ron had the choice of wanting his friendship with you to work and he chose not to work on it. I know it hurts when someone you care about does something you can’t easily forgive. But we’re all here for you to help you through that hurt.”

Harry took a deep breath. “I know,” he admitted. “Sometimes it’s just… hard. At the Dursleys, everything was my fault. I always had to take the blame. It’s hard not to think that way when something like this happens.”

George clapped Harry on his shoulder. “You’ll get there, I promise. And we’ll be here to remind you that you’re loved and not everything is on you. That’s what parents are for. To take over burdens that you aren’t prepared for. And we’ll always be here to help, even when it’s something you  _ are _ able to deal with on your own.”

Harry smiled tentatively. “Okay. Thanks… Dad.”

George beamed at Harry, his expression reminiscent of Hermione at her happiest, and offered him a hand up to his feet. “Shall we go join the ladies?”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, nodding.

When they headed inside, Hermione waved them over with a grin. “We ordered one of those huge family meals to share. Think of it like the Welcome Feast, Harry; you can try a bit of everything until you decide what you like!”

“That sounds great,” Harry answered with a smile, pleased that he wouldn’t have to make a decision between all sorts of foods he’d never tried. He probably wouldn’t like everything, but that was okay because there would be plenty to share.

They got home a couple hours later, popped some popcorn and curled up to watch  _ The Empire Strikes Back _ . Harry forgot about the drama with Ron for a while, going straight to bed after the movie concluded. Hermione, however, looked rather sleepless, going over and fixing a cup of tea instead.

Jean followed Hermione into the kitchen, noting that her daughter automatically grabbed another mug when she realized she wasn’t alone.. “Hey, sweetheart. I know you’ve been worried about Harry, but how are  _ you _ dealing with all of this?”

Hermione took a deep breath and sighed softly. “I’m not happy about it, Mum,” Hermione said in a soft voice, looking down as she waited for the water to heat. “I’m not sure if it’s worse hearing what Ron’s saying second-hand because he only says it behind my back or if having him say it to my face would hurt more…” There were tears in her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away.

“How do you feel about Harry defending you?” Jean asked.

“It feels good that someone is taking my side,” Hermione said, “but… I don’t necessarily want people thinking that I can’t handle Ronald myself.”

“Do you think Harry thinks that?” George asked curiously. Hermione shrugged, clearly unsure. 

“Do you think maybe Harry’s protecting you instinctively?” Jean asked.

Hermione shrugged again, distracting herself with pouring hot water over the tea bags. “I think Harry hasn’t ever had anything worth protecting before, though he does have the instincts to throw himself into danger rather than let someone else face it. But do all the Weasleys now think I’m hiding behind Harry? That I can’t protect myself or handle my own problems?”

“It’s impossible to say without asking them,” George said, “Though Gred and Forge seem to be very intuitive. I wouldn’t be surprised if they knew you could handle yourself.”

“They know most of the situation,” Hermione admitted. “They were figuring out Harry and I, so I told them the truth and made them promise to keep it secret. They… they asked how they could help.”

“Have they?” Jean asked.

Hermione nodded. “You know that Halloween was a bit rough for Harry this year,” Hermione said. “The twins were telling him jokes all through dinner, trying to get him to laugh. They got the other members of the team involved in trying to pick Harry up when he gets down on himself. Apparently, many Wizarding communities celebrate ‘Harry Potter Day’ on October 31, to celebrate the day Harry Potter defeated Voldemort. The fall of the self-proclaimed Dark Lord is kind of a big deal in the wizarding community.”

“How  _ awful _ !” Jean exclaimed. “Imagine celebrating the day a baby’s parents died…”

Hermione nodded. “We sort of seal ourselves off from everyone else. People get upset when Harry doesn’t want to celebrate. They don’t think about what he lost that day, only what the rest of the world gained. Things got a little contentious last year, but that… well, you know about that.”

“Sometimes people see only what they want to see,” George commented gently.

Hermione snorted. “No kidding. Apparently all the Wizarding world kids were brought up believing Harry’s parents were some destined super-Gryffindor couple. They all assume Harry was raised in the lap of luxury. The Potters are apparently a very old and very wealthy family.”

“And their assumptions about him are all based on that,” Jean finished, nodding.

“Some of the boys from the AA club have told us that the story has basically been ‘sanitized’ by the Ministry for public presentation. They never knew any better, until they joined the club.”

“I only wish we had some contact with Harry’s parents magical family and friends. If Harry’s story was sanitized by the ministry, it’s more than possible that none of the stories about Harry’s parents are true,” Jean said.

Hermione looked pensive. “Harry has a photo album of his parents and their friends. Maybe… maybe someone at school could identify the people in the photos…”

“It’s a good idea,” George agreed, “however, it’s getting late and we’ve all had a long day.”

“Good night, Daddy,” Hermione said with a hug and a smile. “Good night, Mum.” 

“Good night, dear,” George and Jean each said. 

The next day, Hermione wrote to Hagrid and very carefully and slyly asked who of Harry’s parents friends were still around to be contacted. Hagrid immediately wrote back that Remus Lupin was a very old friend of James Potter and supposedly lived somewhere around London, but Hagrid hadn’t heard from him in a significant number of years, other than a single package he’d gotten last year of photos with no note. 

Hermione and Harry then wrote several drafts of the letter to Remus Lupin, trying to land on the best way to ask him any questions that might lead to giving Harry information. Finally, they landed on a solid version. Almost immediately after they sent the letter with Hedwig,  Remus Lupin replied to them, offering to meet them in the Leaky Cauldron before term started again. Hermione and Harry, after discussing it with their parents, agreed to tea two days before term started.

In the meantime, they had Luna’s visit and the New Year celebrations to look forward to. Harry helped Hermione tidy up her room, since the fourth bedroom in the house was an office and study. They set up an air mattress and made it up like another bed for Luna. If, for some reason, their friend objected to sharing Hermione’s room, Hermione would take the air mattress and sleep in Harry’s room.

Luna’s home was somewhat near the Weasley house, so the Granger clan once more went on a four hour drive to pick up Luna. “Magic would be nice right about now, huh?” Jean joked. 

“I should ask Percy if it might be possible to connect our home to the Floo network,” Hermione mused. The Floo network had been explained in depth while they were at the Weasleys, as had Apparation. Instant travel had been one of the few things the Wizarding world had over the muggle equivalent. 

“That’s not a bad idea,” Harry said. “You need to be the one who applies for it though. Or ask Neville if his Gran might back your petition. We know I could, but it would be a clue left for someone...”

“And currently there’s no evidence of us being family as far as the Wizarding world is concerned,” Hermione agreed. “We can ask the other AA members, too. They might know more, or have access to more information.”

“Would that mean any wizard or witch would have access to our home?” Jean asked, finding that the discussion helped pass the time of the drive.

‘Yes, but I understand there’s a way to… well, to lock it like a door,” Hermione said. “I’m sure there has to be some provision for muggle-born households. Maybe there’s something like a keystone, and if it’s  _ in _ the Floo, it acts as a lock. I dunno. We’ll have to ask.”

“Let us know,” Jean agreed. Harry and Hermione spent most of the trip to Luna’s house reading. Luna was waiting with an overnight bag on the front steps of the small house which looked like a lighthouse in the middle of a field.

“Hi Luna!” Hermione called as they got out of the car. Luna met her halfway down the steps and the girls hugged each other. “How was your Christmas?” she asked as the rest of the family caught up.

“It was… quiet,” Luna said in her usual dreamy tones. “But good.” She looked up as the Grangers joined them. “Mr. and Mrs. Granger, welcome.”

“Thank you, dear. You must be Luna,” Jean said. “Did your father want to meet us before allowing you to come home with us?”

“He said it was okay for me to go, but he’s at work right now, so he couldn’t be here,” Luna responded, avoiding eye contact with Harry and Hermione.

“Luna,” Hermione said in her gentlest tone. “Where has your father gone?”

Luna finally looked up, and Hermione saw pain in the depths of Luna’s eyes. “South America. He heard a Peruvian Vipertooth might have been spotted. They’ve been extinct for a century, so it’d make a good Quibbler article. He won’t be back until Friday,” she whispered.

Hermione hugged Luna again, tighter. The smaller girl shook with silent sobs she would never share with anyone else. Hermione met Harry’s eyes and shook her head, knowing that even if he hadn’t heard Luna he would figure it out.

“Luna,” Harry started, knowing what his parents would say. “Would you like to stay with us until Friday? It’s not a good idea to stay in a house by yourself.”

“I wouldn’t want to impose. I’ll be okay. My father’s done this a few times since my mother died.”

“It’s no imposition,” Hermione insisted in a low voice. “Our parents will definitely agree.”

“Mum?” Harry said hesitantly, looking up at Jean. “Luna’s father is… away… until Friday. Can she..?”

“Of course,” Jean answered decisively. “Though we may want to go pack you a few more things, dear, if you’re staying the week. Or bring your Hogwarts trunk, and we’ll make sure you get back to the train on time. Whichever you prefer.”

“Oh, I couldn’t…” Luna tried to protest, though she seemed unwilling to leave Hermione’s embrace.

“Of course you can, young lady. Let’s go leave a note for your father and get whatever you’d like to bring along,” George said in a cautious tone, unsure if Luna might have poor reactions to male authority figures.

Luna gave them a watery chuckle. “I see where you get it, Hermione. Very well, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. I accept.”

Hermione helped Luna pack, and between them they carried Luna’s trunk outside. George took it from them and carried it to the car, stashing it in the boot. Luna seemed a little nervous about the muggle car, but Hermione assured her it was perfectly safe and muggles had been driving in them for decades.

Harry, whose mood had dramatically improved since Boxing Day, smiled as Luna slid in next to him. “George is a good driver,” Harry reassured her. “It’s a bit of a drive though, so we brought books. Would you like to borrow one?” Harry held out  _ The Hobbit _ encouragingly. 

Luna took it gingerly, looking rather unsure, but within minutes Luna was reading the story quietly. Harry and Hermione returned to their books as well, and the long drive passed quietly. As they approached their own neighborhood, Hermione gently drew Luna’s attention and pointed out some of the lights displays and decorations lingering from Christmas. Luna asked several questions about how it all worked without magic, and Hermione explained patiently.

“Muggles have their own kind of magic,” Harry said with a smile. “Though it’s called technology. Transportation might not be quite as fast, but they’re getting there.”

Luna nodded with her usual serene acceptance of the world at large. A few minutes later, they pulled into the Grangers’ driveway. George carried Luna’s trunk to the house for her, and Harry and Hermione took over to get it upstairs to Hermione’s room.

“I hope you don’t mind sharing my room?” Hermione asked tentatively as Luna looked around inquisitively.

“That’s fine. Though…” Luna hesitated, but the adults had stayed downstairs and Luna trusted Hermione and Harry. “I… well… I get nightmares and strange dreams. I’m not used to sleeping without silencing charms.”

“I get nightmares, too,” Harry told Luna. “Hermione’s always really great at being there and comforting me when I wake up. I’m sure she’ll do the same for you, too.”

“We all have nightmares sometimes,” Hermione added in a low voice. “Even me, though not often. But I promise, it won’t be a bother.”

A few hours later, the Grangers called them all downstairs. They had a spread of “grazing foods” on the coffee table: sliced cheeses and sausages, boiled shrimp and dip, cut up vegetables and fruits with dips and dressings, biscuits and digestives, crisps and pretzels.

“Would you like to put on a movie until the celebration parade starts on television?” George asked. Harry and Luna shrugged, but Hermione nodded. “Would you be okay with  _ The Neverending Story _ ? I think it would be relatable for Luna.”

“Sure, sweetheart. You kids help yourselves to whatever you’d like to eat as you get hungry,” Jean said while Hermione found the videotape and set up the movie.

Harry got out a sheet of paper and started doodling. He’d talked to his parents about how he had a lot of nervous energy when he was at home because he was used to having to do hours upon hours of heavy chores, and now he had a few things to do like helping Jean chop everything up when prepping dinner and taking out the trash when it was full. They’d suggested drawing to work out the energy, and he found it actually very relaxing. He wasn’t very good, but that wasn’t really the point.

He glanced at Luna, unsure of what to say. She looked so sad, and her father had just… left her. It was different for Harry. He knew his parents had died, which allowed him the ability to imagine his parents really loved him and would never do what the Dursleys did. Harry didn’t understand how anyone could just leave an eleven-year-old alone without supervision for days.

With the movie started, Hermione settled into the empty place next to Luna. She pulled Luna into her side as if it were the most natural thing in the world, and eventually Luna relaxed. They watched the movie about the young boy who felt so lost and alone he let himself get so caught up in a story that it became real for him. Luna was particularly intrigued by the ‘magical creatures’ in the movie, like the Rock Biter and the Racing Snail.

“I want to live in a place like that someday,” Luna murmured when they were first shown the Ivory Tower.

“Maybe you will,” Hermione whispered back.

All the children cried when Artex gave in to the swamp of sadness, and later cheered when Falcor rescued Atreyu and took him most of the 10,000 miles he needed to travel. When Bastian shouted at the book for Atreyu to be confident, Luna whispered the same words.

Luna shivered when all the lights on the screen went out and Bastian shouted into a wind so fierce he could barely be heard. And then as the light grew, and the Child-Like Empress explained the last grain of sand from Fantasia to Bastian, Luna sighed softly. They all got a chuckle out of Bastian’s wish for Falcor to help him scare his school-yard bullies as the movie ended on an upbeat note.

“Man, I wish I could have done something like that to Dudley and his friends,” Harry laughed as they rewound the tape.

“Do you think we could find a Luck Dragon?” Luna asked. “I should think they would be wonderful friends.”

“I’ve never heard of a Luck Dragon outside of the movie, I’m afraid,” Hermione responded. “But perhaps we can write to the Dragon Reserves and see if they know anything about whether there is such a thing. The story for the movie was made up by Muggles.”

Jean and George returned to the living room after the movie ended, glad to see that Luna was more comfortable, curled into Hermione’s side as Harry handed them a plate of snacks. “It’s time for the New Year’s parade to start,” Jean said. “And then we can watch the countdown to midnight.”

Harry accidentally nodded off within fifteen minutes of the parade starting. The next thing he knew, George was crouched in front of him, tapping his knee. “Mmmm?” Harry asked wordlessly as he shifted.

“Ten minutes to midnight, kiddo,” George said.

Harry rubbed his eyes, trying to wake up. He glanced over at Hermione and Luna and they weren’t much better off. They had changed into their pyjamas early in the evening so they’d be comfortable, and now he just wanted to go back to sleep. He leaned his head against the pillow. Maybe he could shut his eyes for just a minute, then wake up to watch the ball drop. Harry heard them talking for a while, then heard them counting down, but he was too tired. He felt George picking him up, but was already mostly asleep and couldn’t be embarrassed. It was his Dad. This was what Dads did.

He felt his Dad brush his bangs and kiss his forehead. “Happy New Year, Harry.”

Luna and Hermione were only slightly better off. They managed to make it up the stairs under their own power and quickly changed for bed. Hermione made sure Luna knew where the bathroom was and they cleaned up briefly before they both slid into their beds.

Hermione was half asleep again when she heard Luna shifting restlessly. “Luna?” she whispered. “You okay?”

“It feels… strange. And… kinda lonely,” Luna whispered back, a hint of tears in her voice.

“Come on up here, then. I don’t mind,” Hermione invited. Luna only hesitated for a moment, then slipped under Hermione’s blankets and burrowed into her friend’s side. Hermione fell asleep running gentle fingers over Luna’s hair and humming under her breath.

Everyone slept late the next day, and breakfast was leftover scones and jam that Harry and Jean had made during their holiday baking spree. “What do you guys think about taking Luna to the Aquarium today?” 

“The Aquarium is where they have sea life in these large habitats,” Hermione explained to Luna. “So that you can observe animals up close that you’d normally never get to see.”

Luna immediately perked up. “Really? I’d like to see that.”

Jean smiled. “There are little descriptions around the habitats that identify the creatures you’re seeing and tell you about where and how they live naturally.”

“Like at the zoo?” Harry asked; he’d never been to an aquarium. He didn’t even know there was one nearby.

“Exactly. They also feed different animals at different times, like the octopus, the sharks, and the penguins.”

“What are penguins?” Luna asked curiously.

“They’re flightless birds,” Hermione explained. “Instead of flying in the air, they’re able to swim. They live in Antarctica.”

“I’d like to go to Antarctica,” Luna said distantly. “Not too many wizards or witches go there you know.”

“Considering the robes, I can’t imagine why,” Harry joked. “Regardless, penguins are some of my favorites.”

“I wonder what the Giant Squid would do if it was in an aquarium?” Hermione pondered.

“Probably pose for tips,” Harry laughed. Luna and Hermione giggled with him, easily able to picture it.

The Aquarium was fascinating, and it seemed to cheer Luna up quite a bit. They might be what most people would call “muggle animals” but the deep sea creatures were strange looking and curiously colored. Luna read all about them and asked Hermione to help her remember, so she could tell her father about them... later. Harry noticed that some of the animals would follow Luna to the edge of their tanks as if they were curious about the girl. 

Hermione gladly obliged, and George surprised Luna with a book on deep sea animals from the gift shop. Luna clutched the book to her chest, wide-eyed with excitement. “Thank you, Mr. Granger.”

Going back home at the end of the day, everyone excitedly talked about the best things that they had seen. Harry had enjoyed the exhibit of dolphins and whales, especially the beluga. Hermione liked the big tank of different tropical fish, including stingrays and a few smaller sharks. Luna had fallen in love with the playful otters. 

“I can see why you like it here, Harry,” Luna said as they were driving through London at the end of the day. Harry blushed. Harry had shared several times at AA meetings how the Grangers were the best home he’d ever been in. Even excluding Ron’s anger, the Weasley home was far too loud and chaotic for him. He liked it well enough to visit, but he enjoyed it quiet sometimes. Not that it was always quiet at the Grangers. 

Harry remembered the day that past summer when they’d gotten out water guns and ran around the back garden until all four of them were soaked. “It’s a pretty great place,” Hermione said, sharing a smile with Harry.

“Best home I’ve ever had,” Harry said.

“Have you ever been?” Luna asked, only curiosity in her voice. 

“Where?” Harry asked.

“Godric’s Hollow?”

Harry smiled easily, if a little stiffly. “No, I haven’t been.”

“Maybe we could go next summer,” George suggested.

“Can I think about it? I’m not sure…” Harry said, biting his lower lip in a very Hermione-like way. He didn’t know if he wanted to go. He knew from Hagrid that the house had been ruined and he didn’t know if he could stand it to see it. He knew it was irrational, but he felt guilty having parents who loved him, of being part of a non-magical family. 

“Think about it all you like,” George replied. “You have plenty of time until summer.”

They passed the next few days very similarly, giving new Muggle experiences to Harry and Luna at places Hermione always enjoyed. They spent one day in Chinatown, exploring the streets and shops showcasing an entirely different culture. Another was spent at Kew Royal Botanical Gardens. Hermione picked up several postcards to give to Neville when they got back to school.

Two days before they were going to catch the train to Hogwarts, the family went to Diagon Alley. George took Luna into the Alley while Jean took Harry and Hermione into the Leaky Cauldron. A man in worn robes sat in one of the back booths, reading a book. He glanced up, then did a double-take, staring at Harry. Hermione followed Harry as Harry started forwards but Jean held her back. “This is for Harry, dear,” Jean said gently. “Come on, let’s ask Tom for a couple pumpkin juices.”

The pub was otherwise empty. Since they’d shown up mid-morning, nobody was there yet. “Harry?” the man asked, in a tone of awe he hadn’t heard before. Different from the usual response he got from wizards. Harry could see Jean and Hermione sitting in hearing-distance, which eased his mind some.

“Mr. Lupin?” Harry asked. He extended his hand. “Thank you for agreeing to meet me.”

The man took Harry’s hand and shook it. “Call me Remus, please. I do believe your father would be quite horrified by the fact that you called me ‘Mister.’ You used to call me ‘Uncle Moony.’”

Harry remembered a flash of something. It was impossible. That had been a story he’d made up when he was first introduced to the cupboard. “Harry?” Remus was asking. “Are you alright?”

“Mooey and Pafoo,” Harry murmured. 

Remus went sheet white. “What did you say?”

“Mooey and Pafoo… it was a story I made up when I was a little kid about a wolf and a dog who raised an orphaned boy. I didn’t make it up… did I.”

Remus shook his head and looked… incredibly pained and bereft. “No Harry. You didn’t make it up. They were our nicknames when we were at school. Your dad had three best friends. I was Moony, your Dad was Prongs, a man named Peter Pettigrew was named Wormtail and a man named Sirius Black was named Padfoot. Sirius and I were over almost every day to see you, since Sirius was your godfather and I… well, you could say that your parents adopted me into the family.”

“Why didn’t you take me then?” Harry asked, his voice rose slightly and his body tensed. “Why did you let Dumbledore take me to the Dursleys? Did you have any idea what happened to me? Did you know I’d gone to the Dursleys?”

Remus paled. “The… surely not. Don’t say you were given to Petunia…” he whispered.

“I was left on their doorstep…” Harry said, shaking slightly as he closed his eyes.

“You were… oh Merlin, what have I done,” Remus said softly, dropping his head into his hands. When he looked up again, his eyes were haunted.  “I didn’t know. I wasn’t  _ allowed _ to know. I argued with Dumbledore for hours in his office but he refused -” Remus let out a dry sob.  “Had I known… had I known that you’d been given to Petunia, I would have taken you and gone on the run. I was told you were safe and foolishly, I believed the people who told me so.”

Most of the fight within Harry died as he processed Remus’ words. Just the fact that Mooey and Pafoo were real was half of it, and the crestfallen look Remus gave when discovering who he’d been left with more than answered Harry wondering if Remus had known. Hermione and Jean came over, hearing their reactions.

“How’s it going over here?” Jean asked, coming over.

“It’s…” Harry started, but didn’t know what to say.

“That good, huh?” Jean said with a kind smile. “I’m Jean Granger,” she introduced to Remus. “And this is my daughter Hermione, a friend of Harry’s from school.”

“Hello,” Hermione said politely as she slid into the seat beside Harry. She took his hand under the table in a subtle gesture of comfort and support.

“What were they like? My parents?” Harry interjected as Remus’ gaze slid curiously from Harry to Hermione to Jean.

Remus froze momentarily, then slowly launched into a lengthy description of Harry’s parents, showing him photos and telling him various stories both in and out of Hogwarts. The more Remus spoke, the more Harry’s parents seemed real.

“That sounds… wonderful,” Harry said, smiling. “Not perfect, but good. Happy.”

“It was. I can’t thank you enough for allowing me to meet Harry,” Remus said, turning his attention to Jean. “I would love to talk to you about setting something up for the future.”

“Of course. Do you have a phone number?” Jean asked. “Or we could owl you?”

Remus made a face, then sighed. “Owl is probably best. I… tend to move around a lot.”

Remus shook Jean’s hand first, then Hermione’s. “It’s nice to meet you, and I really appreciate your letter. If I may ask… how did you get Harry away from the Dursleys for a visit? I can’t imagine they’d be… receptive… of Harry’s school friends.”

Jean gave a secretive smile and a wink. “Let’s just say that the muggle world does things a little differently. Once we know you a bit better, perhaps we’ll fill you in.”

“Of course,” Remus accepted the answer, though his eyes lit with curiosity. “I would enjoy continuing to write to Harry, as well as writing to you and your daughter, if you’d like.”

“I’d like that,” Hermione said with a small smile. “I’m sure Harry’s going to want to know you better, as well as hear more about his parents. I would like to know you too. Harry is my best friend, after all.”

Harry felt a little twinge of guilt, keeping Remus in the dark when there were others who shared their secret. At the same time, though, he knew that the more people with knowledge of his living situation equaled more people who could possibly let something slip to Dumbledore or the Ministry. And they really didn’t know Remus that well, despite the connection he felt to the man as he shared real details about the Potters.

“I’m glad Harry has a friend like you, and I’d be more than happy to write,” Remus agreed. “I’m a half-blood, and it’s a unique perspective, seeing into both worlds.”

“I had hoped you would say something like that. I have so many questions, but sometimes the purebloods and even the professors don’t understand what I’m asking!” Hermione beamed. Remus chuckled as he nodded his understanding.

“Speaking of questions, Mr. Lupin, you wouldn’t happen to know if it’s possible for a muggle home with a student witch to be connected to the Floo Network?” Jean inquired.

Lupin nodded. “It is. You have to go to the Ministry to fill out a request form.”

“Is there a way to lock and unlock it if Hermione isn’t home? Or without getting her into trouble for underage magic if she is home?”

“There is, though I expect you’ll have to request it specifically on your form. I believe they can give you a wardstone,” Lupin replied.

“That will make visiting much easier,” Jean said with a smile.

“Would you… would you maybe like to come see us off at Kings Cross, Remus?” Harry asked tentatively.

Remus gave him a gentle smile. “I would like that very much.”

“We’ll try to be there early so we can chat for a bit,” Jean offered. “Say, nine-ish?”

Remus tilted his head, but he had enough experience with muggle phrasing to understand. “Nine-ish it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trust Hermione to find the one person who can help Harry solidify his own personal identity, hmm? Yes, we know we've introduced Remus early. No, we're not gonna apologize for doing it!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to Hogwarts!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 137 Kudos, and 139 comments! You guys rock!
> 
> Really, we're thrilled with the overwhelmingly positive response to this story. So as always, thank you very much for your continued support. We love hearing from you!

* * *

**Chapter 9**

The Grangers did end up taking Luna to Kings Cross with the family once the Christmas holiday was over. It was a rather tight fit with all the baggage, but they managed. Luna carefully held the cage containing her new owl, which she’d named Iris for the golden-winged messenger goddess.

When he’d bought it for her, George made Luna promise that she would owl them right away if her father left her alone again while on an extended “business trip.” Iris, who’d been listening, seemed to understand that messages to the Grangers were going to be of the utmost importance, puffing her chest out and listening in rapt attention. If Geroge had said something like that to Luna in the first few days of her visit, Luna would have hesitated to agree, but her time with the Grangers had convinced her their home was a wonderful place to stay and shockingly, unlike so many homes, they had more than enough love to go around. So she gave her word, and George gave her the owl for her very own.

Even arriving early, Platform 9 ¾ was overflowing with people and loud voices. Luna cringed for a moment as she walked through the partition, none too fond of large crowds of Hogwarts students who teased her for her beliefs, but she lifted her chin and steeled herself against the noise. Jean’s light touch on her shoulder was reassuring, too. It made Luna miss her own mother sharply, but much like Harry she was glad to have an adult she could trust to steady her when she needed it.

Remus met them, as arranged, and the six of them stood clustered on one end of the platform to chat. Remus asked about the classes they were taking and how their holiday homework had gone. He was proud when all three reported that their homework was finished and their notes organized so they could study for exams more easily.

As the time drew near for the train to depart, Harry and Hermione collected hugs from all the adults, though hesitant ones from Remus. Luna held out her hand to George and was surprised when he pulled her in for a gentle hug and a kiss on the forehead. Luna stiffened for a moment, then melted into it. It had been ages since she’d been held like that by a grownup. Like someone cared. Jean did much the same, and if Luna was a little misty-eyed afterwards, no one commented on it.

As they watched the children board the train, helping each other with their trunks, Jean smiled fondly. She caught a wistful expression on Remus’s face as the train pulled away, and she turned to face him.

“Come have tea with us on Saturday, Mr. Lupin?” Jean invited.

Remus blinked. “I… um… sure?”

George laughed. “We would be happy to have you. And I expect Hermione is right and you will become an important person in Harry’s life. We could use as much help as we can get helping Harry erase his memories of the Dursleys and it might help that you knew him… before. Given his family life growing up, I’m sure you’ll understand that we’ve taken an interest in his well-being and would like to get to know anyone significant in his life.”

Nodding slowly, Remus gave them a smile. “I would like that. And I’m… very glad to hear that Harry has someone other than Petunia Dursley to care about him.”

————

Harry still felt rather strange, riding in a compartment without Ron. But that didn’t mean the ride to Hogwarts wasn’t just as fun, possibly even more. He, Hermione, Neville, and Luna all shared a compartment. 

“Who was that with you at the station, Harry?” Neville asked. 

“He was a friend of my parents,” Harry explained. “We met a couple days ago and he told me about my parents and what they were really like.”

“Really? What were they like?” Neville asked, sitting up. 

“From what I’ve heard so far, James was really loyal, but sometimes was overzealous about it. And Lily was kind but tended to make snap decisions; apparently she didn’t like James all that much at first, and stuck to that for a long time. But... both of them loved me.”

“That’s great, Harry,” Neville replied.

“Do you want to tell the AA about it? We could have a group get-together after dinner tonight,” Hermione suggested. “Not an official meeting, but we can give the others the gifts we got them and talk about the holidays and whatnot.”

“I think we should,” Luna replied. All four of them palmed their coins at the same time, then grinned at each other.

“Ooh, idea. Here, hold hands,” Hermione squealed. She waved her wand over the coins as they were all in one small space. Then she placed her thumb over her coin and murmured the activation.

All the coins lit up with the words,  _ Post-Christmas get-together after dinner? -Apollo, Athena, Esus & Pandia.  _ The others grinned at the adaptation for multiple senders, but they were getting used to Hermione’s fits of inspiration and innovation so no one made a big deal out of it.

“What else happened over the holidays?” Neville asked. “How was Boxing Day with the Weasleys?”

“Oh yes,” Luna agreed. “I forgot to ask about that. Did Ron apologize?”

Harry and Hermione exchange a glance. “Not exactly,” Harry said slowly. “He actually verbally attacked Hermione again. But what happened next isn’t something I’m interested in knowing. I’m done with Ron and all the drama.”

Neville and Luna exchanged a glance. “I suppose someone will spread word of the shut-out when we get to Hogwarts,” Neville concluded. Hermione looked uncomfortable and Harry put a hand on her shoulder. 

As the afternoon passed, word spread up and down the train about Ron Weasley. The Weasley twins stopped by their compartment just before the train pulled into Hogsmeade.

“Hello Fred, George,” Luna greeted in an airy tone.

The twins smiled at her. “Just making sure our favorite second years - and their friends - are doing well after glorious holidays,” Fred said cheekily.

“It was… rather better than I expected,” Luna said, a little shyly.

“Mine was pretty good. Oh, and Harry, I have copies of those old photos I mentioned,” Neville added.

“Photos?” The twins’ eyes lit up. “Pictures of a darling little Harry? We must see!”

Neville grinned and gained a stubborn look to his eyes. “Not until I show them to Harry and Hermione. They get to decide who else sees them.”

“We shall see…” George said with a laugh. “Harry’s still sleeping in our dorm.”

“Yes, but I can always give them to Hermione to keep safe for me,” Harry grinned.

“We’ve always wanted to test Hogwarts’ charms against boys going into the girls dorms,” Fred said with a wink. “Sounds like an excellent challenge. Thank you Hermione.”

Hermione smirked. “We shall see,” she mimicked George’s tone. “Even if you can best Hogwarts’ protections, you still have to get through mine.”

“Challenge accepted,” the twins chorused. Their confidence was only slightly lowered when Hermione just laughed.

In the chaos of students exiting the train, Hermione noticed her AA coin warming up. She smiled at the multiple, “yes” and “of course” replies from both the Slytherin boys and, surprisingly, both professors.

Dinner was a loud event, with the pleasant sounds of joyous laughter and excited voices as students shared holiday stories with their friends. Harry and Hermione took up places at the far end of the Gryffindor table, with the Weasley twins, Ginny and Neville buffering them from the rest of their house-mates. Ron sat with Dean and Seamus at the other end, looking both angry and dejected.

“Did the twins tell you what Mum said to Ron after you left?” Ginny asked, her eyes alight with mischief but her voice low enough not to carry far. Harry and Hermione shook their heads. “Well, first he got the biggest dressing down of his life. And that was  _ after _ Charlie gave him the ‘that’s not how we treat our friends’ talk. Ron’s not allowed on his broom for the rest of the term, and Mum’s sending him to Charlie this summer to ‘work off his anger doing hard work at the dragon reserve.’”

Harry’s eyes were wide and Hermione gave a low whistle. “Well… maybe he’ll learn something from it, at least?” was all Hermione could manage to say.

“Percy’s still spreading the word that the shut-out is going into effect tomorrow,” Fred said. “No one’s going to talk to Ron until he apologizes to both of you. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but Percy has really stepped up this term. He’s not the brother we were constantly having to prank last year.”

“I think even Percy has learned something from all of this,” Ginny said. “He used to talk about someday becoming Minister of Magic. Now he’s talking about changing his career path and doing something that he loves. He actually apologized to Dad for criticizing his choices when he was younger. He says he realizes that family and spending time with who and what you love is much more important than anything else. He sees you two together and he  _ gets _ it now.”

“You two have always been family to each other, ever since you became friends,” George agreed. “Everyone in Gryffindor has seen that. Ron’s just being a jealous prat.”

“We never meant to exclude him,” Harry said quietly. “He felt like one of us, last year. But, well, when things changed last summer…”

“Harry needed someone to look out for  _ his _ best interests,” Hermione said. “He has a tendency to allow everyone else’s needs to take priority and Ronald was perfectly okay with taking advantage of that.”

“You’re amazing at looking after people,” Fred said, making Hermione flush a little. “We’re all grateful that Ron’s animosity hasn’t cost the rest of us your friendship.”

“Oh, no, of course not,” Harry said quickly.

“We’d never judge your whole family by the actions of one foolish prat, especially since we’ve known most of the rest of you as long - if not quite as well,” Hermione added.

“Anyway, how was the rest of your hols?” Harry asked Ginny and the twins. He was pleased to see that Ginny was starting to stop looking at him like he was a celebrity and starting to look at him like a person. He hoped that one day they could be friends.

“It was great,” Ginny said, lighting up. “It’s always nice when Charlie comes home, and I got my very own broomstick from Mum and Dad. It’s used and kinda old, but it’s good enough to practice on for tryouts next year.”

“You want to go out for the Quidditch team?” Fred asked his sister, mouth agape.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” George said.

“When have you practiced?” Fred insisted.

Ginny blushed. “I used to steal your brooms when you guys were off exploding things. I’m a fairly good chaser and I can play seeker if I have to.  I’m trying to convince Oliver Wood that a second-string of backup players is a good idea, because injuries do happen.”

“We did have to forfeit the last game of the season because Harry was unconscious after facing You-Know-Who…” George said to Fred.

“Good point. Plus then there will be players all ready to be first string when we graduate,” Fred confirmed. “Though we need to find a good beater or three for tryouts…”

“I doubt the other second-year girls are interested in playing at all,” Hermione said. “You may have to leave it for next year and see if any of Ginny’s other year-mates are interested.”

“Sounds definitely like a plan,” George said with a smile.

“You sure we can’t get you on a broom to join us, Hermione?” Fred asked teasingly.

Hermione shook her head, hoping her expression wouldn’t give her away. She wasn’t any good at flying a broom, in part because she was terrified of great heights. She was fine at the top of the stairs or looking out a window, but the idea of only a magic broom keeping her aloft…

But that didn’t mean she wanted her fear known, either.

Soon enough, the feast ended and everyone went back to their dorms to goof off on their last day of freedom. Harry and Hermione begged off the game of Exploding Snap Fred and George tried to drag them into, then headed for the AA room. Hermione’s book bag, usually full-to-bursting with books, was instead filled with gifts for their friends. But they both knew no one would question her having a full bag and a couple of books in hand.

Draco and Theo were already there, a pile of gifts were in a corner under a Christmas tree. “Hey guys,” Draco said with an easy smile. “Welcome back.”

“Hey Draco. You too,” Harry said, helping Hermione put the gifts they’d brought for everyone under the tree. Hermione brought the small stack of unwrapped books over to the table when they were done.

“What are these?” Theo asked curiously.

“I’ll explain in a minute,” Hermione responded. “I’d rather everyone be here first.”

Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait long. Luna and Neville came in together, having gotten to the main Library entrance at the same time. A few minutes later, Professor Snape strode into the room, and Professor McGonagall arrived just behind him.

“Welcome back, everyone,” McGonagall said. “I hope you had a happy Christmas.” She and Snape passed out slim boxes, wrapped in paper bearing red, green and blue stripes, to each student. Being children, they opened the boxes immediately and were each taken aback by the beautiful leather wand holsters, each obviously personalized and stamped with the icon of their associated nickname. Since some of them were more obscure than others, and the holsters were meant to go under clothing anyway, they had felt is was safe enough to give them some personality for each student.

“Thank you, Professors,” Hermione breathed with a bright smile. Thanks were echoed around the table from each student.

“We cannot stay long,” Snape said, nodding acceptance of their thanks. “But we wanted to stop by and make sure everyone is well.”

Everyone except Theo nodded. He had what appeared to be a black eye, though it was beginning to fade. “Theo?” Snape asked. “What happened?”

“My dad got drunk on New Years Eve… and when he drinks... “ Theo blushed and looked down. “He said I was a sorry excuse for a pureblood heir and he was knocking me around because he loved me, because I needed to be hardened.”

“You’re not,” Neville said immediately, “And what he did wasn’t okay.”

Theo nodded. “I know, I just… I’m stuck. I can’t go anywhere without his permission. I can’t officially report him…. I’m too young to run away, I know that. I just don’t want to become him. That’s all.”

“I’m sure I can get Mum to agree to you joining us over the summer,” Draco offered. “Though with my Dad… I’m not sure it’s all that much better.”

Snape silently pulled a small jar out of his robe pocket and set it in front of Theo. They could all see from the color that it contained healing paste for surface wounds. “Thank you, Sir,” Theo murmured.

“Unfortunately, I do not have a way to allow you to remain at Hogwarts for the summer,” McGonagall said sadly. “Trust me, boys, if I did I would make it happen very quickly. However, if something like this happens over  _ any _ holiday, I want you to use your coins to contact myself or Professor Snape and we’ll figure out a way to keep you safe.”

When no one said anything else for a long moment, Hermione changed the subject. “Well, perhaps it will cheer us all up to hear I brought the books I promised?” She unstacked the books on the table, turning them so the others could see the covers properly. “This one is a basic book on genetics, and this one is split between animal and plant genetics. People are included in the ‘animal’ section, at the back. These five cover history from the Muggle perspective for the last three hundred years, mostly European history but some important stuff from the Americas too. This one and this one should wait until you catch up on the history, because they deal with modern technology in the Muggle world. I figured I would leave them all here in our hidden space for whomever wants to read them.”

“Well done, Miss Granger,” McGonagall said nodding stiffly. She still occasionally showed signs of distress, that so many students were being abused. “We must be going, now, but I look forward to perusing some of these myself.” The professors left, but it was barely noticed as the students were looking over the volumes.

Draco picked up a book on human genetics and scanned the back cover summary. “Wait, so muggles have actually been able to isolate traits that get passed down?”

Hermione nodded. “They know the specific set of genes that control hair color or eye color. That’s a pretty useful book. There’s a whole section in there on why inbreeding causes issues. They started a huge project two years ago trying to isolate every gene in human genetics and how it gets controlled.”

Theo, meanwhile, was looking at a book about the various revolutions in modern British history. Women fighting for the right to vote, civil rights, child labor and protection movements, and several other things were included, and Theo was fascinated. Neville was looking at the plant genetics books. 

“Maybe someday we can give you a tour of the muggle world,” Harry said. “The dress code might be different than you’re used to, but it’s not that scary.”

“We had a lot of fun,” Luna said softly.

Theo looked up sharply, as did Draco and Neville. “You visited the Muggle world?” Theo asked, sounding a bit envious.

Luna nodded. “We went many places and I learned new things. I, well, you see… the Grangers didn’t react well to learning that Daddy left the country for a week while I was home alone. So… our planned overnight turned into the rest of the hols.”

“How long were you home alone, Luna?” Draco asked in the soft, gentle tone they only ever heard from him in this room.

“Just a few days. It… happens… since my Mum died,” Luna answered with a shrug. “Daddy always leaves me with plenty of food and floo powder and everything I could possibly need. It’s just… lonely. I’ve asked him if I can come along on his trips and he says I can in a couple of years.”

“Leaving you with enough to eat and the ability to go places is not the same as taking care of you,” Hermione said gently. “You liked staying at our house, yeah?”

“Oh, yes,” Luna confirmed immediately. “It just… just makes me wish…”

“We understand,” Harry said, resting a hand on Luna’s. “They can’t come back to us to make things better again. But at least we have each other.”

“How was your holiday Harry?” Draco asked. 

Harry suddenly felt guilty that his holiday had been so good when everyone else were still in bad homes. “I was adopted,” Harry admitted. 

Instead of the hate and anger he expected, everyone looked… happy for him. “That’s great!” Draco said happily, teasing Harry a little. “Are you Harry Granger now? Shall we send out a press release?”

Harry smiled. He actually found that he liked Draco teasing him for his fame. His friends - his  _ real _ friends, knew that he hated it. “No, I’m still Harry Potter. I… I actually wasn’t sure how I felt about the adoption after it happened. I thought I’d be excited… but in reality I don’t know how I feel. I’ve never had a family. I don’t know how… how to be a  _ son _ to someone.”

“And since you’re famous and your parents are legendary heroes, you don’t want to break away from the only thing you have that ties you to them… your name,” Theo concluded, nodding. 

“We had fun introducing Harry to all the wonderful things about Christmas,” Hermione said with a smile. “Baking cookies with Mum, decorating the tree as a family, visiting the carollers, shopping for and wrapping presents, staying up too late ‘cause we’re excited and going downstairs in our pjs to open gifts when we woke up.”

“I have to admit,  _ Star Wars _ was pretty great,” Harry said. Neville, Theo, and Draco gave them blank looks. “It’s a movie, and a movie is this thing that Muggles came up with. It’s like a wizard photo, but it’s usually about two hours long and has sound along with it. Muggles use it to tell stories.”

“Hermione picked out one to show me, too. It was like a theater performance, but somehow recorded like with a picture so everyone can see it and it’s always the same,” Luna piped up.

“It’s not like I’m not glad I was adopted,” Harry said. “and the Grangers have been showing me what it’s like… what it’s like not being treated like dirt all the time… I just…. I don’t know… I met one of my parents’ friends, and I felt like I’d somehow betrayed him.”

“I get it,” Hermione said, empathetically. “But you have to remember, Harry, that you don’t owe anyone anything. If they really love you and want to be part of the family, they’ll get over it.”

“Maybe you should think of them as ‘step-parents’,” Draco suggested. “Widows remarry all the time.”

“For the first time that you can remember, you have a home where you feel safe and happy,” Neville spoke up. “Your parents would want that for you.”

“And remember, you told me that Mr. Lupin said if he’d known you were with the Dursleys, he’d have taken you himself and run from England,” Hermione reminded Harry. “I don’t think he’s upset that you’ve found a new family; only that he misses your parents and what might have been if they’d lived.”

“I wish there was some sort of safe house… somewhere where anyone in trouble could go, in case their Head of House is abusing them,” Harry said. “At least until we manage to change the law.”

“When do you think you’ll come clean about being adopted?” Theo asked.

“Seventh year, when I’m of age and no one can do anything about it. But really right now shouldn’t we be trying to figure out who’s controlling the basilisk?” Harry asked.

Draco shrugged. “We figured this was a ‘how were your hols’ gathering and not an actual meeting. We can get back to our actual work tomorrow.”

“Good point,” Harry agreed. “I guess… I spent eleven years always being hard at work, while making sure I scored worse than Dudley in school, and cleaning every inch of the house and cooking every meal…”

“Hold on,” Draco said. “Back up. You  _ what _ ?”

Harry blushed. “They treated me like a slave. I slept in the cupboard under the stairs and if I didn’t do something right or gave them cheek, I’d get hit or beaten.”

“Not about that…” Draco paused, processing everything Harry had said, then resumed. “I want to concentrate on the fact that you didn’t do your best in school?” Draco asked, clearly flabbergasted.

Harry shrugged. “To my aunt and uncle, their son was perfect. He was spoiled in any way he asked for, and there was no possible way I could be better than him in any aspect of life. So… if I did better than him in school, or on a test, or… well, anything, really... “

“He’d get punished, hurt and usually made to continue his housework anyway,” Hermione finished for him. “So he got into the habit of leaving school work until the last minute, so there was no way he could outscore his so-called cousin.”

“The only class I did well in was maths,” Harry said. “My cousin was two levels below me so I could do as well as I wanted. I never got a question wrong. Since Dudley had nothing to compare it to, they ignored the one good grade I had in classes.”

Theo and Draco both listened with wide eyes, completely taken aback by the idea of deliberately not doing well in school. If either of them came back with low grades or evidence they’d been slacking off,  _ then _ they would be punished. In fact, Draco’s father was furious that Hermione consistently beat him in class ranking. He didn’t believe a muggle-born should be able to do something like that.

“When I came to Hogwarts I was just… naturally in the habit of not doing my best. Now that I have parents though, I think the four of us are going to be competing for the top spot.”

Draco snorted. “You’re telling me that you scored in the top ten percent of students without even trying?” he asked.

Harry nodded. “And now I have Hermione’s study and organization system to help me actually work to do better.”

“From what I’ve seen so far, it’s likely that Harry will out-score me in Potions and Defense this year, at the very least,” Hermione admitted. “I think I have him in Charms and Transfiguration, but we’ll have to see.”

“He has the Potter magic backing him up in Defense, though,” Neville pointed out. “There’s never been a Potter who failed Defense. It’s part of their family magic.”

“Who knows, this term,” Harry said. “Even I could teach the course better than Lockhart. We haven’t even actually  _ learned _ anything. He won’t shut up about how great he is.”

“We’ve been studying other Defense books, though,” Hermione reminded him. “Self-study of things at about our level, and Professor Snape’s been helping us when he can. I mean, it won’t help us if his term exam is all about him, but at least we’re learning some useful things this year. OWL year is closer than we think. And Mum bought us those extra books for Christmas after we confirmed her first impression of him.” 

Neither of the siblings mentioned their private lessons with McGonagall and Snape. They might have to confess at some point, but if Snape and Dumbledore were right and Voldemort was coming back, they would need every edge they could get. And Harry knew the value of being underestimated.

“Speaking of extra studies,” Theo said. “Did your Head of House tell you about the new courses that will be available next year as electives?”

Harry nodded. “She told us right before dinner,” he said. “And Percy’s been telling us about them some and careers too.”

Hermione looked excited. “I wish there was a way I could take them all! I’m not sure about Divination, but everything else sounds so interesting…”

“I’ve heard Professor Trelawney has never given an accurate prediction,” Draco said of the Divination teacher. “And, as Neville said a while back, being a Seer isn’t something you can teach. You are, or you aren’t.”

“I’m pretty sure Neville’s future involves him tripping over something,” Theo said teasingly. 

Everyone chuckled and Neville said, “It’d be more of a prediction if you said what I would trip over.”

“Something of Ron’s,” Harry predicted.

“We’ve only been back a few hours,” Draco protested. “Surely even the Weasel can’t be that sloppy!”

Harry, Hermione and Neville all scoffed at the same time. “You have no idea,” Neville said.

“Well, shall we exchange our gifts?” Draco said, changing the subject. “We have quite the pile under the tree, not counting Hermione’s giant stack of books.”

“Sure, but you get to help pass them out,” Neville said teasingly to Draco. Draco mock-pouted but got up just as readily to hand out brightly wrapped parcels.

While they were distracted, Theo approached Hermione. “I borrowed these from my family library. I will need them back by the end of term, but I thought you’d like to study them,” he said quietly. He handed her three slim volumes. “The first one is general Pureblood etiquette, the other two are the manners and mannerisms expected of men and women respectively. I know you will think a lot of this is rubbish, and I don’t entirely disagree, but I think it will help you when dealing with the older generations in time.”

“Thank you, Theo. I will definitely read them over, and probably Harry will as well. We can fight for change better if we know what we’re trying to change.” She tucked the old volumes carefully into her book bag.

“If you two are done yapping, we have presents for you too!” Draco yelled teasingly, pointing to the stacks in front of Hermione and Theo that had accumulated while they talked.

Everyone laughed and they dove into their gifts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, precious little children. How good it is to see them happy and having fun together!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which our intrepid heroes are trying to figure out what's going on. But really it's everyone. Everyone finds out things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've gotten SO MANY lovely comments. You guys are all awesome.

**Chapter 10**

While Harry and Hermione were sharing their gifts with the AA, the Grangers had convinced Remus to come over for tea. “Thanks for coming, Remus,” George said, after they’d finished.

“Thank you for coming to see Harry off as well. I’m sure you have a very busy schedule,” Jean added. 

Remus laughed dryly. No friends had called on him since James and Lily had died, Since then, his life had been lonely, and more often than not he’d been close to losing his living arrangements or his job or both. When Hermione Granger contacted him… he’d been floored. She had explained that she was Harry’s adopted sister and would he like to meet them. Harry… his cub. Remus knew in reality that Harry wasn’t really  _ his _ . That wouldn’t have been legal. But James had agreed to ‘share’ Harry between the Marauders. So Harry was part cub, since Remus was the last Marauder. He realized the Grangers were expecting him to say something. “Sorry, no… I don’t… not really.”

“Oh I’m sure there are plenty of things you could be doing other than this.”

Remus bit his lip. “Listen, there’s something I should tell you. And if you don’t want me to see Harry again, well… I’d understand. I’m a werewolf.”

The Grangers stared at him, as if they were waiting for him to yell out ‘GOTCHA!’ “A werewolf?” Jean asked hesitantly.

“You have my word that I’m only dangerous during full moons, and I keep myself away from people during those times,” Remus said earnestly.

The Grangers exchanged a look. “Jean…” George started, looking at his wife.

Jean, meanwhile, was looking straight at Remus. “How long?” Jean demanded.

“What?” Remus quavered.

“How long have you been a werewolf?” Jean interrogated. “Are you born this way? Did someone you love bite you?”

“Jean, I think that’s a rather personal question,” George argued.

“No,” Remus answered, not minding the question at all. They were muggles; they wouldn’t know these things, and he felt explaining was important. “You aren’t born like this. You’re bitten by someone with the disease. At least so far. No werewolf has ever actually...  _ sired _ anyone before.” He cleared his throat. “I was, uh… I was three. And my father had angered the werewolf who bit me.”

“So you were… revenge?” Jean guessed, clearly horrified. Her face shifted to an expression she often gave Harry or Hermione. “Oh you poor dear!” She exclaimed, launching herself forward and hugged him tightly. 

Remus eyed George carefully as Jean embraced him, but George shockingly didn’t seem scared or angry, despite his proximity to Jean. Instead George was regarding him with concern. Merlin, he hadn’t seen that expression since James and Lily were alive. Lily had used to ‘accidentally’ cook too much for Sunday dinner and send him home with the leftovers, which lasted half the week.

“How do you fare after the full moon?” George said curiously as Jean released Remus. 

Remus internally cursed himself. Harry  _ had _ to have become friends with a muggle-born witch with a logical family. Most wizards didn’t think about things like that. “I’m all right. It takes me a little while to shake it off. Especially since I’m not as young as I used to be. It’s hard to keep things down, and the like.”

“But you have someone to take care of you?” Jean demanded. 

Double damn. “Er… no,” Remus admitted.

“Well, you’ll just have to stay here,” Jean resolved.

“What? No!” Remus vehemently declined.

“You can take Harry’s room,” Jean continued, ignoring Remus’ objection in a no-nonsense manner. 

“But…” Remus tried to protest in vain. Jean just looked at him with a determined expression. Remus sighed. “I can Floo over when I wake up, I suppose. But it’s often not… not pretty. The wolf… because I don’t give him… prey… he often self-mutilates.”

“We’re adults. We can handle it,” George stated, backing up his wife. “No one should have to suffer alone. Particularly you.” George’s expression told Remus that he had figured out that Remus had been suffering since the loss of his family. “You’re Harry’s uncle. That makes you family. And we’re the types to take care of family.”

“We have something to confess ourselves,” Jean hedged. “Harry… well, you have to understand that our Hermione is intelligent and highly observant…”

Remus stiffened. “Harry? What’s wrong with Harry?”

“It’s not what’s wrong with Harry,” George said, “Or rather it’s about what was wrong with Harry… Remus, Harry was being abused at the Dursleys.”

Remus shot up to standing, so enraged he couldn’t process anything but the rage he felt. Despite what most people thought, he and the werewolf were rather separate entities. They shared a body but the wolf was a distinct presence in his mind. And just now, the wolf was just as furious as the man. Having two enraged trains of thought in one mind made it very difficult for Remus to keep control.

“Calm down, Remus,” Jean said in a soothing tone, touching his shoulder and grounding him. “We said  _ was _ . The Dursleys signed over custody of Harry last spring. It’s rather sad, actually. Our attorney told us that they never even read the entire file. They just signed over custody to people they’d never met. Just recently, we’ve also filed the official adoption paperwork with the relevant departments of the Muggle government.”

Remus took a ragged breath and sat down. He was still enraged, but knowing Harry was safe took the edge off. “What about the magical world?” he asked. “The ministry isn’t going to acknowledge a muggle adoption.”

“Harry and Hermione actually took care of that, with the assistance of their Potions professor,” Jean explained.

“They blood bonded,” Remus realized, then started laughing. “That… well, the Ministry can’t undo that… They’re either remarkably impulsive, or extremely brilliant and possibly both.” 

“We’re doing everything we can do to keep Harry safe. Hermione has apparently been doing so since they became friends,” George finished wryly.

Remus chuckled. “Takes after her mother, then.”

“We’re only telling you because Harry still deals with issues because of his time at the Dursleys.” Jean said. “He…” she stopped, tears in her eyes.

“He was pretty touch-starved when he came home with us,” George continued. “Asking for contact is still… still something we need to work on with him. Really, asking for anything is something we need to work on with him. The first time we took him to the pediatrician, I felt the way you did. But I realized that I was now responsible for showing Harry how to be a good man. That not all of us are like his aunt and uncle. It took a while before he warmed up to me. In fact, Christmas was the first time he showed interest in spending any time with me one-on-one. I’m sure it’ll take less time for you. Just… keep it in mind.”

“Of course,” Remus agreed, nodding.

* * *

Classes at Hogwarts resumed the next morning with the expected normalcy for most of them. Neville joined Harry and Hermione at breakfast, as he often did. He murmured that he wasn’t sure if Dean and Seamus were participating in the shut-out, but if they didn’t most likely the rest of the school would expand it to all three of them.

Hermione began to wonder if even the professors had heard what Ron had done as the days went by. They barely acknowledged him except to take points for bad behavior. They would answer questions, but only about the material.

Well, most of them. Lockhart was apparently oblivious to it all. His classes hadn’t changed at all - they were still completely useless.

The Gryffindor common room was changing too. Harry’s first year, he’d been popular because he was The Boy Who Lived. This year, people were learning to like him for him. Not as many people liked him, but those who did, it felt more genuine. The rest of January flew by as Harry and Hermione dug themselves into schoolwork, Quidditch practice for Harry, and learning about the Wizarding world. Once word spread that Harry was trying to learn, it seemed every one of his friends wanted to contribute. 

Katie Bell and Alicia Spinnet taught him about the parties in the Wizarding world which sounded closer to Victorian-era balls. Ballroom dancing was a requirement and Harry learned from both Draco and Neville that most pureblood children learned around the age of ten how to dance. Katie and Alicia apparently had this covered, and they worked out a time when they all could meet and teach Harry and Hermione.

Lee Jordan taught Harry about Wizarding sports and games, which apparently extended beyond Quidditch. There was also Quadpod, Gobstones, Winged horse racing, Headless Hunt games, Duelling leagues and the International Wizard’s Chess League. In turn, Lee and the twins were fascinated to hear about the biannual Olympics that took place in the muggle world and the various sports that are played there.

Percy taught Harry and Hermione (and several others who ended up pretending they weren’t listening while sitting suspiciously close) all the different careers a person could have in the Wizarding world, both nationally and internationally. Percy explained that the courses he and Hermione chose as electives for third year could shape the career path that they took later in life. Harry wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, except that becoming an Auror didn’t sound like too much fun. Dark Wizards already surrounded his life. He didn’t want to do that forever.

AA meetings, meanwhile, were expanding to more members. Blaize Zabini had slotted into the group fairly easily; Hermione assumed that either Draco and Theo or Snape had given him some of the basics before bringing him in. It did take a while to get him to drop the facade of the charming socialite, but they were slowly cracking through his exterior walls.

Two Hufflepuffs were brought in not long after. A fourth year named Cedric Diggory, who was the Hufflepuff seeker, and Melody Crouch, a sixth year. McGonagall had brought them both in as they’d both showed signs of familial abuse, though neither would say who. However, they both came to the meeting. Cedric clearly had self-esteem issues that Hermione thought could be from verbal abuse and Melody was the kind of quiet that Harry had been before the Grangers had rescued him - the kind of quiet that came from being punished for things like ‘breathing too loud’.

As Draco and Theo had mentioned before Christmas, Snape was also looking into whether or not Marcus Flint would benefit from the group. When Snape finally broached the topic with the older boy, Marcus requested that Snape also bring in his half-sister - a Ravenclaw girl in Marcus’ year whom no one knew was related to the Flints, Adella Campbell. 

Adella actually had it worse, because her mother was a muggle-born witch who accidentally got pregnant while their father was “slumming it” with his wife pregnant. The wizarding world frowned on single mothers with children born out of wedlock. Especially those without any proper lineage to speak of.

Hogwarts seemed to sense the larger group automatically, since the room was larger at the first official meeting of the term. The bookshelves also expanded and were filling up as Hermione wrote to her parents for more books and other members shared books they’d brought with them from their homes.

Those books from the Muggle world included child psychology, abuse responses and how to identify them, and discussion material that could help them all help each other. Hogwarts itself provided them with books on magical mind-healing, though Hermione and Theo suspected they were temporary duplicates of books in the actual Library.

Grades came up again as Draco expressed worry at his father’s reaction if Harry also beat him in standings. Cedric, they found, actually had a lot in common with Draco.

“My father’s the same way,” Cedric explained. “He made it pretty far in the ministry, but he didn’t make it all the way to the top, so he wants me to. I don’t have the heart to tell him what I really want to do…”

“What do you want to do?” Hermione asked, gently encouraging him to talk about it.

Cedric blushed. “There’s a few Quidditch Supply companies out of Switzerland that accept interns right out of school. You need NEWTS in Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, and Herbology. If you can survive a year, they hire you.”

“Like the Nimbus company?” Harry asked, instantly curious. 

Cedric nodded. “Making bludgers more accurate and matching average broomstick speed, charms on the golden snitch. Right now standard snitches are one-use only. It’d be better, in my opinion, if they were reusable.” Cedric seemed passionate about the subject. 

“I think you should go for it,” Harry said. 

“Yeah?” Cedric wondered. “Try telling my Dad that. He’s got my entire life planned out. He wants me to be Minister of Magic.” It had taken a long time for Cedric to admit to the AA that his father would brag about him in public, then berate him for every little thing he perceived as ‘incorrect’ in private. Either his grades weren’t good enough or he should have caught the snitch or he didn’t have ‘the right’ friends or it was the fact that he was in Hufflepuff and his father worried it would keep him from getting too far.

“If you were accepted by one of those companies, maybe you could just go?” Hermione suggested. “You’d be an adult at that point, and legally allowed to make your own choices. Write your father when you get there, explain what you could never tell him, and hope for the best?”

“Maybe,” Cedric said slowly. “For now I have to make sure I get the right OWLS and NEWTS to even qualify.”

“I’m sure you will,” Harry said, echoing Hermione’s encouragement. “And you’ve been at the top of your year, so at least that shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

Neville got a glimmer of mischief in his eyes as he turned to Draco. “Maybe tell your Dad that you suspect McGonagall is giving ‘The Boy Who Lived’ preferential treatment or private lessons? Make it sound like his fame is what’s getting him ahead?”

Draco huffed a brief laugh. “I wish I could, but Professor McGonagall is actually quite fair in her classes and I don’t really want to see that change. And with my Father on the Board… and no,” Draco turned to Harry. “You are not sacrificing your grades to make my Father happy. The man wants to create a ‘better’ version of of himself, which frankly will never happen at this point. Once I’m of age, I’m spilling everything I know to the Wizengamot and my father will go away for a very long time. You’ve already saved me, Potter.”

“I still can’t believe that Harry  _ freaking _ Potter was dropped off at his abusive relatives and no one ever checked on him or did anything about it,” Melody Crouch said. “I mean, I was only four at the time, but I remember the day that You-Know-Who was killed. Everyone kept saying how much everyone owed you, Harry. It’s kind of shocking to think… those were just words and there was no real meaning behind it.”

Melody hadn’t shared anything about who or how she’d been abused, but she definitely displayed symptoms, and the group respected that everyone heals at their own pace. Much like with Luna, they waited patiently for her to want to talk to them about whatever it was. Even though she hadn’t talked about her own past, she seemed to be taking some heart from knowing she wasn’t alone.

“I find it hard to believe, too,” Adella said; they had yet to shake her out of her soft, subdued tones, but they knew Mr. Flint had been extremely rough on his ‘accidental, bastard daughter.’ They could all sympathize. “I think we all grew up knowing Harry Potter was the only Heir to the House of Potter, as well as the one who killed You-Know-Who. It was implied he was somewhere safe, probably growing up in luxury.”

“Nope,” Harry quipped. “Just a cupboard under some stairs.” The new members of the group knew Harry’d been abused by his Aunt and Uncle, and that he was no longer there, but they hadn’t been told where he was now and they hadn’t been told he had been adopted. Still, it was an accomplishment that Harry could be flippant about his childhood at times, without it covering up pain and anger.

“How did you figure it out, Hermione?” Marcus asked. Since joining the group, Marcus had become much less of a bully. He had better ways to vent his anger than on other kids. Underneath his anger, he was actually a bright and inquisitive sort.

Hermione sighed. “When I first met Harry on the train to Hogwarts, he was thin. Too thin, and too small for an eleven-year-old. He wore baggy, worn-out clothing that looked much too big for him, and frequently at meal times, he had to be reminded he could eat as much as he wanted. Sometimes in classes, especially with Professor Snape, he’d flinch if a professor got too close, as if he was expecting to be hit.”

“I think we can all admit that Snape has made us feel that way at some point or another,” Adella said with a wry smile. “Even to his own House,” she added, nodding towards Marcus.

“Once I began to recognize the signs in Harry, I started seeing them in others, too. It makes me very angry that the Wizarding World has archaic laws that perpetuate the cycle of abuse rather than correcting it,” Hermione grumbled.

“So much for Muggle inferiority, hmm?” Blaise drawled, making everyone laugh.

Time went on. For Valentine’s Day, Lockhart hired several middle-aged dwarves to pose as cupids to deliver valentines to people around the castle. Harry was mortified as each member of the Quidditch Team, the AA, and the rest of Harry’s friends sent him singing valentines. Everyone started teasing and joking when he received one from Ginny, though. Harry didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so he gave her a small smile, but he definitely felt like they were both too young to take such things so seriously.

People from all over the school sent notes to Hermione as well, standing in solidarity if not in friendship, to help cheer her up over the whole ‘Ronald Situation.’ She also received valentines from the AA group, though she noticed they all signed them with their group nicknames. A couple of her house-mates peeked over her shoulder and saw the names, but she shrugged and said perhaps they wanted to remain anonymous. At least three of the other valentines were actually sent from anonymous students, whose poetry included calling her ‘dirty mudblood.’ 

It caused such an uproar from the Gryffindors that Dumbledore had to step in and announce that issue was being looked into. It hadn’t taken much investigation. In the end, it turned out that it was Crabbe and Goyle who had pooled their money and sent them. Each of them had fifty points taken from Slytherin and they had a month’s detention from Professor Snape. 

From that point forward, Draco, Theo and Blaise made a point of using the AA coins to warn Hermione away from wherever the two big lugs were lurking. She appreciated it because, even though she could handle herself just fine, it was better to avoid trouble than to confront it knowingly. Apparently Howlers had been delivered to the dungeons from Crabbe’s and Goyle’s parents, who lectured them on the art of being subtle, according to their Slytherin friends.

“It’s ‘Being a Slytherin 101’,” Blaise explained. “If you’re going to do something stupid, don’t get caught.”

“Or at least do something so obscenely noble it gives people an excuse to reward you. Being punished instead of rewarded is a major faux pas,” Draco added.

Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall insisted on investigating who could be setting the Basilisk loose, insisting that Harry and Hermione stay safely uninvolved and be children. That didn’t stop them from researching and passing on anything relevant to their professors. Several of the AA members were helping with their search, and between them they had quite a team.

March and April sped by and soon everyone was preparing for exams. Ron had become sullen and withdrawn as the school continued to pretend he didn’t exist. Harry felt guilty, wishing he hadn’t lost his temper, but at the same time if Ron would just  _ apologize _ to Hermione, it would all be over.

As exams drew closer, Harry and Hermione spent considerably more time in the Library. Not only were they studying for their own exams, but they were both also helping others in their classes and a handful of firsties who had asked for help. Madam Pince apparently trusted him and Hermione to walk the firsties to the reference book they would need for whatever they had to study.

In addition, they spent yet more time in the AA’s private room, studying with and supporting the others in their group. Draco and Theo were pushing themselves hard, knowing how their fathers would likely react to their probable standings after exams. Hermione repeatedly reassured them that if their hard work paid off and they beat her out of first place, she wouldn’t be angry. She said much the same to Harry. She might be disappointed in herself, but hard work deserved recognition.

The beginning of April brought the twins birthday, which was celebrated with all their friends at the end of the table in the Great Hall. Katie, Angelina, and Alicia had obtained a cake for the occasion. “It’s too bad your birthday is in the summer, Harry,” Alicia said. “We’ll all miss celebrating with you.”

“That’s okay,” Harry answered. “I don’t need everyone to make a fuss.”

“It’s not a fuss when it’s your friends,” Katie said. 

“Maybe the first weekend of the new term in September, we could have a little party in the common room for all the summer birthdays we miss?” Hermione suggested. “We miss Neville’s, too, and a few others.”

“Now why haven’t we ever thought of that?” the twins chorused, setting Hermione, Katie and Angelina to giggling.

“Because our Hermione is brilliant and thoughtful,” Angelina replied, grinning. Hermione blushed but smiled back. She might never get along with her roommates, but she’d found some real friends in the two older girls since they’d come through for her the night she discovered the basilisk attack. She was surprised that she really enjoyed time with them.

“Hey! We can be brilliant!” Fred protested.

“And thoughtful!” George added.

“But not usually at the same time,” Ginny teased her brothers. Everybody laughed at their play-hurt expressions.

As April and May passed, Lockhart was starting to make noises that only he could destroy the beast plaguing the school. None of the students were taking him very seriously, though; he hadn’t taught them a single thing all year other than how to be a narcisistic arsehole, and most of the Slytherins didn’t actually need those lessons. Nobody else was interested in them either. Desperate for information, Harry and Hermione went to go see Hagrid, feeling slightly guilty that they hadn’t seen him very often that year.

He looked a little surprised to see them showing up for tea, but no less happy to see them. 

“Well look who it is,” Hagrid said a bit gruffly. “Didn’t think I’d see you hardly at all this year.”

“Sorry, Hagrid,” Harry said blushing. “I’ve been a bit busy this year.”

“Oh, don’t feel bad,” Hagrid said. “I was only teasin’ you a bit. I may be old, but I remember what it was like to be running around, too many things to do and see and explore…”

“So many books to read,” Hermione added in a playful tone, her eyes shining with amusement.

Hagrid laughed and nodded. “Come in, come in. Would you like a cuppa?”

They sat while Hagrid made tea and asked about their classes. After catching Hagrid up, when things had reached a lull, Harry looked down at his hands. “Hagrid… you were here when the Chamber was opened last time… weren’t you?”

Hagrid froze, then nodded. “Aye, I was helpin’ an injured spider named Aragog so they… they thought it was me.”

“Except it wasn’t,” Harry said. “Hagrid… do you know anyone who’d try to frame you for this?”

Hagrid looked at Harry for a very long time, and he wasn’t completely sure Hagrid was going to answer. “I wasn’t very popular at Hogwarts,” Hagrid finally admitted. “I had a reputation for… carin’ for magical beasts. But I swear, Harry, Aragog didn’t do nothin’!”

“We know, Hagrid,” Hermione said in a soothing tone. “We trust your word. We’re pretty sure it’s a basilisk in the castle; no one has died yet but several people have been petrified. That only happens if you see the basilisk indirectly and don’t actually see its eyes directly.”

“Who blamed you, though?” Harry pressed a little as Hagrid relaxed upon hearing they believed him. “I know you said everyone thought it was you, but someone had to have started it?”

“It wasn’t him that’s done it. Tom Riddle hasn’t been seen in over fifty years. He disappeared not long after graduating.”

“He could still be alive, though,” Hermione mused. “Seventy isn’t terribly old, for a Wizard. Maybe he’s using a different name? Or he married and took his wife’s name for some odd reason.”

“Or moved out of the country,” Harry said. “Because there’s always the obvious…”

“What?” Hermione asked, looking alarmed. 

“Why would a student tell adults someone is breaking the rules?” Harry asked rhetorically. “I mean, as long as you’re not Percy, why would you tell adults about rule breaking?”

“You want to get them in trouble or you’re trying to keep people from noticing what you’re doing,” Hermione said. She gave Harry a dissatisfied look. “I really shouldn’t know that. You’ve corrupted me.”

Harry laughed and shrugged. “Maybe. But that begs the question - what was Riddle hiding? Was he just prejudiced against non-purebloods, or was he actually somehow involved?”

“I wonder if he was a Parselmouth too,” Hermione pondered. “I’m not sure it’s coincidence that Riddle hasn’t been seen in over fifty years and there hasn’t been a Parselmouth in Hogwarts for the same timeframe…”

“You think I’m related to whoever opened the chamber somehow?” Harry asked. “I mean, in reality there are two parselmouths in school right now. Do you think it’s a family trait, like defensive spells?” 

Hermione shook her head. “From what we’ve learned, the Pureblood families are mostly all inter-related at this point. If it were a family trait, more people would have it. But… maybe it’s a recessive trait? So it only shows up now and again?”

“No idea about that. But Riddle was a Slytherin Muggle-born,” Hagrid said, shaking his head.

“So probably not pureblood prejudice. He could have had a kid?” Harry suggested. Or a grandkid?”

“There aren’t any Riddles in the school currently…” Hermione trailed off in thought. “But if he had a daughter, and she married…” She shrugged. “No way to know, I suppose.”

Harry felt like he was missing the obvious. “So, let’s say Riddle was a Parselmouth and he did open the Chamber fifty years ago… he was a muggle-born who somehow knew how to open it, and the Chamber was supposed to be Slytherin’s… and Slytherin was a parselmouth, could Riddle somehow have been part of Slytherin’s bloodline?”

“Remember, Harry! The warning! ‘Enemies of the Heir, beware!’ Maybe he is descended from Slytherin!” Hermione exclaimed.

“So if Riddle was the heir last time, and he was a descendant of Slytherin…” Harry continued, thinking there was still something missing. His eyes went wide. “Thanks so much for tea, Hagrid. I have to look something up in the library.”

After bidding Hagrid goodbye, they went off racing down the hill. “Harry?” Hermione called. “Harry, what is it?” 

Harry stopped, looking out at the lake. “Hermione, you’ve read more about the rise and fall of the dark arts. Who hates muggle-borns? Who’s obsessed with blood purity?” Hermione went pale. “Exactly. But my scar hasn’t hurt. So how could he be here without being here?”

“There has to be a way!” Hermione declared. However, three days later, they had gotten nowhere.

“I think we should talk to Snape…” Harry said. “He knows the most about the Dark Arts. He’d know anything that could temporarily transfer magic like this. Unless we’re wrong and this is something brand new.”

Hermione sent word to Snape through her coin and Snape responded he’d meet them in half an hour in the AA room. 

Harry and Hermione were already there, so they organized things, trying to make their reference books as accessible as possible. 

“What’s this big emergency then?” Snape asked concernedly as he swept into the room. 

Harry stared at him, suddenly reminded of McGonagall dismissing them the year before. Hermione squeezed his hand. “Professor, you know how with a few leaps of logic we were able to figure everything out with last year?” he asked in a rush. He then blushed. “Or… at least we figured most of it out.”

“Indeed,” Snape said. 

“And you and Professor McGonagall told us to come to you if we figured something out? We figured something out.” Harry then launched into everything they knew about who was attacking students with the basilisk and why, linking it to the attacks fifty years ago and what Hagrid has told them about Tom Riddle. Harry went on to explain why they thought Tom Riddle and Voldemort were the same person.

Snape stared at Harry as he explained everything. Just flat out stared. “So that’s where we are, Professor. Someone sent a way for Voldemort’s power to be here without him being here so that the Chamber could open and bring him back to life.”

Then Professor Severus Snape uttered two words they hadn’t expected to ever hear from him. “Bloody Hell… people really underestimate you, Potter. You’re quite intuitive and your logic is not bad for your age.”

“Did you just… compliment me sir?” Harry asked. 

“Do not get used to it,” Snape drawled, but they caught a glint of amusement in the depths of his dark eyes..

“I won’t, sir. But also, I couldn’t have done it without Hermione. She’s the one who correlated the timeframe, and she’s the one who gave me the information that allowed me to make all the connections.”

“Regardless, most people look to Ms. Granger as being the one who figures things out. It’s no secret that she passed my logic test with flying colors. You, however, are the one with… how did Albus put it… ‘pure nerve and outstanding courage’... you are not the one people think of for putting this sort of thing together. However, you are correct that both of you should be accorded an outrageous amount of maturity, bravery, and intelligence by putting this together. It proves that the Dark Lord is coming back and he has followers…” he stopped and looked at the two of them. “You should be proud. Most witches or wizards cannot leap to conclusions the way you two have proven able to do,” Snape said. He studied them intently for a long moment, then said in a low voice, “I can confirm that Voldemort is, or at least once was, Tom Riddle.”

“I don’t care if people credit Hermione for knowing so much that I can solve problems with her help,” Harry said in a low voice. “‘Nerve and courage’ is only going to get me so far, and beyond that point I need to  _ know _ things. Thank you, though, sir. Both for putting the situation into perspective and for… trusting us with what you have.”

Hermione studied Snape quietly while he spoke, watching his face and especially his eyes. “Your role in things… if…  _ when _ he comes back, you’re going back to him. As a spy.”

“And now you know why you must continue to practice your Occlumency until it is as instinctive as breathing,” Snape said. “You both are young for the skill, but given how quick you are… you must learn it, and learn it well, or others will be able to discern the secrets you hold and use them against you and against us all. My life will quite literally be in your hands, in your minds.”

“We practice every day, Professor,” Hermione said earnestly. “It helps that we can work together and help each other to find holes in our shields we didn’t see from the inside.”

“It actually is helpful, practicing before bed. Especially… especially when Ron was saying all that stuff about Hermione.”

“When you get better at it, Occlumency should also help reduce the frequency of nightmares. Your emotions and thoughts will be better controlled and you will not awaken from fear,” Snape informed him.

“I’ve noticed that,” Harry said. “I… I don’t dream about  _ it _ as often.”

“That is good, Mr. Potter.”

“Sir…” Harry started to ask, then he paused and reset himself. “Does it ever go away?”

Snape sighed. “No, Harry. I’m sorry, but it doesn’t. While I do not dream of it any more, and the emotions do dull somewhat over time, there are some things you never can truly ‘get over.’”

“Sometimes I wake up… and for just a second I think that I’m still in my cupboard… and I wonder… if I’ll ever stop.”

“There are days when I wake up and for a moment my father is in the next room, drunk and beating my mother.”

“My worst nightmares are about failing,” Hermione offered tentatively. “Not just school, but… failing the people I care about. Failing Harry, failing you, sir. Having to see horrible things happen to people because I wasn’t fast enough or smart enough to stop it.”

“Hermione…” Harry said slowly. “You could never fail me, you know that, right? You know what my deepest desire was? It was having a family. You gave me a family, Hermione, offered and even insisted on sharing your own. You have no  _ idea _ how much that matters. You will never fail me because you gave me a home.”

“But you could die, Harry. If Voldemort really is after you, wants to kill you… You know I’ll do everything possible to help you, to keep you safe. But what if it’s not enough?” She blinked back tears, lifting her chin and attempting to use Occlumency to remain calm. “You’re my little brother; I don’t ever want to see anything bad happen to you. But sometimes I’m afraid this is all too big a problem for us to handle.”

“Family forever, stronger together, remember?” Harry prompted. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but we’re surrounded by people willing to help. And a lot of them are  _ adults _ this time.”

“It is easy to become overwhelmed when looking at the big picture, Hermione,” Snape said, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder for a moment. “Focus on the things you can control, can affect, and remember that you will never be in this fight alone.”

Hermione offered them both a tentative smile. “I’ll do my best. Thank you, both of you.”

“Trust works both ways, Ms. Granger,” Snape said with a hint of a smile. “Trust in us, as we trust in you.”

She nodded, more firmly this time. “I understand, sir.”

At dinner that night, Hermione and Harry stuck together, Hermione eating with her off-hand so they could hold hands while they ate. It wasn’t the first time Harry had realized Hermione had fears of her own, but it was one of the few times she’d ever voiced them. So they stayed close, being there to support each other.

Harry was sure there were plenty of people at Hogwarts who thought Harry was born without fear, but it really wasn’t so much a lack of fear as the fact that he’d been forced to face so many things in his short life that scared him that he was numbed to it. In truth, he feared the same thing Hermione feared. He feared losing her, and Mum and Dad. He feared being alone again. He mentally promised himself to make sure neither ever came true. If he worked hard enough, he could make sure of it. 

It was dichotomous, to feel the happy chatter around them but also to know that something deadly was coming, beyond the basilisk in the pipes, and they couldn’t stop it from happening. All they could remember was that they were stronger when they stood together, when they loved each other, and when the remembered that family was the most important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something IS coming. Poor Harry. But they'll manage somehow... And this time, Harry and his friends are not alone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the pieces of the puzzle finally all come together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We really do have amazing readers. Truly, thank you all for comments, kudos and sharing our story with friends. We love to hear from each and every one of you, and it definitely makes all the thought and hard work feel worthwhile.

**Chapter 11**

Despite the cloud over Harry and Hermione, they tried to engage in everyday Hogwarts life. Harry was still excited to play Quidditch, and they had a game coming up. The team practiced hard, and Hermione kept an eye on her brother while they trained, bringing some of her research out to the field with her. The day of the game arrived, but just before they were supposed to kick off, McGonagall came onto the field. “Our apologies, this game has been cancelled!” she said, her voice magically louder as if she were speaking into a loudspeaker. “Please quietly walk back to your dormitories and your Heads of Houses will be with you shortly.”

The Gryffindor Quidditch Team looked at each other, confusion melting into concern. Harry looked around and spotted Hermione already heading down from the stands to meet him. “Professor McGonagall,” Oliver complained as he spotted her walking through the crowd. “You can’t cancel Quidditch! It’s important!” 

Professor McGonagall looked grave. “I’ll explain everything when you get back to your dormitories, Wood.”

Harry had a sinking feeling. Professor McGonagall took some time getting back to the Gryffindor dormitory. “There’s been an attack,” McGonagall explained. “Another double attack. Until the situation is resolved all extracurricular activities are cancelled. Prefects and Teachers will be escorting you to your classes and to and from the library.” Her gaze paused on Harry and Hermione and they saw the look on McGonagall’s face.

“Professor,” Harry asked softly. “Who was attacked?”

“Cedric Diggory and Justin Finch-Fletchley,” McGonagall admitted. “Please remember, the mandrakes are almost ready. They will recover as soon as the appropriate antidote is administered. I repeat, they are  _ not _ dead and you will see them again.”

The next few days were hard for Harry and Hermione. Not only had another attack occurred, but this time it had been a friend. One of their AA group, and an older student. Harry in particular had hoped they would be able to resolve the situation before anyone else got hurt, and he felt badly when he learned of the attack. He knew it wasn’t his fault, but he couldn’t help the feeling of guilt. At least no one had died yet. 

They found out that Hagrid, whom they knew was innocent of all charges, had been taken away to Azkaban, which was wizarding prison. Further, they made no progress on where the basilisk was coming from. 

One afternoon, during a study break, Harry and Hermione thinking about where the four attacks took place. One, a hall near the dungeons; one, a hall near the hospital wing; one, the hall near the Great Hall; and one outside a bathroom.

“Except for the first attack…” Harry noted. “Every attack connects to me in some way.”

“What do you mean?” Hermione asked.

“Colin was attacked on his way to visit me after the rogue bludger nearly killed me, Marietta and Nick were-”

“I know where I found them, thanks,” Hermione shivered at the memory. “But what has that got to do with you?”

“They were attacked the day after dueling club, when Draco made it  _ look _ like he was going to attack me after dueling club. Cedric was about to play me in Quidditch. All the attacks happened after it seemed like I was being ‘threatened.’ Except for Mrs. Norris. I’ve never been anywhere near that bathroom…”

“Do you really think this is connected to you?” Hermione questioned. Harry could hear the fear and nervousness in her voice. He could see it from her perspective. There was a chance last year was a fluke, but now it seemed like there weren’t just one or two rogue followers after Harry. It seemed… bigger than that . “Most people avoid that one because of a ghost of a teenage girl in there. I’ve been in that bathroom a couple of times, but she’s…. ”

“A ghost…” Harry thought aloud. “Hermione, the Hogwarts ghosts all died here, right?” Hermione thought for a moment, then nodded in confirmation. “What if the girl died in the bathroom? What if Mrs. Norris’ attack was a mistake? And then it was covered up to announce the opening of the chamber?”

“You think that the opening to the Chamber of Secrets is in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom?” Hermione asked, surprise in her tone.

“Why not?” Harry asked. “This castle is a thousand years old… it could have been used for something else back then…”

“Well… I suppose we could go talk to her,” Hermione said slowly. “Most ghosts don’t like to talk about how they died. And, well, she’s called ‘Moaning Myrtle’ for a reason. She whines. A lot. But even she might be susceptible to the ‘Harry Potter Fame’...”

Harry made a face but nodded. “If that’s what it takes, I guess.”

“We will have to slip away from our escorts. But I do still have my hand mirror. Just promise me that if we happen upon it and I get petrified, you’ll get help before you go after it?”

Harry started to shake his head, but at her resolute glare his shoulders slumped. “Fine. I promise.”

“Thank you.”

It wasn’t hard to slip away from Percy, who had shown up to escort them back to their dorms. Harry had taken to keeping his cloak in his bag as a last resort against the basilisk, so it wasn’t long before they were in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.

“Hermione,” the ghost whined in greeting. “It’s been ever so long since you’ve visited.”

Hermione plastered on a smile. “I know, and I’m sorry. But I brought a friend to meet you. Myrtle, this is my best friend, Harry Potter.”

“ _ The _ Harry Potter?” Myrtle cooed. “Oh, I’ve heard  _ ever _ so much about you.”

“Have you?” Harry asked with a small smile of his own. He started to hold out his hand, then shook his head. “Sorry about that. Habit when meeting someone.”

“That’s all right. I know touching a ghost can be… uncomfortable… for the living.” Myrtle said with just the slightest pout. “But I’m glad you came to meet me. And that you’re polite about it. Most people chuck things at me.”

“We wanted to make sure you were okay,” Hermione slipped into the conversation. “Such terrible things going on in the school right now.”

Myrtle started sobbing again. “Myrtle!” Harry exclaimed.

“No one cares about the feelings of a ghost,” Myrtle said. Suddenly, as fast as flipping a light switch, she became infuriated and rushed over to Hermione, looming over her. “What do you want?” Myrtle demanded.

“We were hoping…” Harry hedged. “Would you mind telling us how you died?”

Immediately, Myrtle relaxed, a pleased smile lighting up her face. “Oh… that. I was sitting here, crying. Olive Hornby had made fun of my new glasses and I had just run in here when I heard a voice. It was a boy, and he said something in a funny language. I came out here to yell at him when I saw this huge pair of yellow eyes… and they all of a sudden I was floating over my body and I went to this wonderful place… but I was still mad at Olive Hornby, so I came back to haunt her until her dying day. And then I got bored and came back to my bathroom and I’ve haunted it ever since.”

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. “Do you know where the eyes came from?” 

Myrtle pointed to the sink. “Over there. One of the taps doesn’t work.”

Harry and Hermione went over and found a tap with a tiny snake etched into the stone. The password was probably in parseltongue. Probably something simple. Something that could withstand several missed generations. “Thank you so much for telling us that,” Hermione said politely.

“You’re welcome. You’re not going to open that thing again, are you?” Myrtle whimpered as they studied the tap.

“Again?” Harry turned to look at Myrtle.

Myrtle’s eyes were huge and she was floating backwards rather quickly. “A boy was in here a couple of hours ago. He opened the sink.”

“Myrtle,” Hermione asked. “What did he look like?” 

“Oh, he had red hair, and freckles.” Myrtle said. “He didn’t look half-bad. Not as good as you certainly.” She winked at Harry. “He was wearing a maroon jumper with an R on it.”

Harry’s veins went ice cold. Ron Weasley was opening the Chamber of Secrets? He was the Heir of Slytherin? But how?

“Myrtle,” Harry said. “We’ll be back. If anyone else comes in here or leaves from the sink, let us know, okay?”

“Of course. Come back soon, okay?”

“We will,” Hermione agreed as her eyes met Harry’s and they exited as quickly as seemed polite. Out in the hall, they broke into a run.

Heading for the Gryffindor Common room, they quickly scanned the clusters of students, talking in small groups. Then they spotted Ginny, who was sitting in a dark corner alone and crying. “Ginny!” Harry cried, running up to her.

“It’s my fault… It’s all my fault… I should have… said something. I should have done something.”

Hermione gathered Ginny up in her arms and held her tight. “It’s not your fault, I promise,” she murmured.

“I kept forgetting things… I’d write to Tom and then I’d forget whole hours… I didn’t know what to do so I threw it away… then I saw Ron with it. Oh Merlin,” Ginny broke into sobs again. Harry sent a message to the AA. They needed McGonagall and Snape but there was silence on his coin. After five minutes, he got a message from Draco.  _ Lugus and I are in. How can we help? ~ Rahu _ . After another five, he looked at Hermione. Ginny was still crying.

“It’s too dangerous,” Harry said. “Take care of her. I’m going for help. I’ll be back, I promise.”

“Harry! Don’t you dare!” Hermione was yelling. “Don’t you dare!” Harry couldn’t stop. He had to get help. 

_ Start towards the staff room. - Apollo _

Harry headed straight for the teachers’ lounge. Hoping someone, anyone really, was there. Harry ran as fast as he could, down three halls, four flights of stairs, and up four different flights until he came skidding to a halt in front of the lounge entry. Without stopping to catch his breath, he knocked rapidly, gasping.

The door was answered by a grinning Lockhart. The grin covered the panic in his eyes, but only just. “Harry, my boy! How lovely to see you! I’m afraid I’m rather busy at the moment, is there something you need?”

“Professor, this is about Ron…” Harry said in a rush, anxious to get to the bathroom.

“Ah… yes… quite the tragedy.” Lockhart commented. There was an undercurrent of glee in his voice that made Harry frown.

“Ron,” Harry tried to explain. “My friend, Ron. I think he’s bewitched or possessed or something! He’s opened the Chamber of Secrets!”

Lockhart raised an eyebrow, finally becoming alert and serious. “You’re sure about this? And you know where it is?”

Harry nodded. “Yes, but I need help. You’ve done all this stuff, right? Can you help? Please, sir?”

“Of course, of course,” Lockhart agreed, looking oddly. “Show me..”

The only people they saw on the way were Theo and Draco, and though their public rivalry was still going strong, they ‘allowed’ Lockhart to persuade them to ‘help and do the right thing for a fellow student.’ All of this was just by chance. Harry didn’t really think Lockhart could do much. But he was an adult, and that was… well, it was something.

Draco rolled his eyes behind the idiot professor’s back; if after all this time he didn’t know that ‘the right thing’ wasn’t a concern for Slytherins, he was beyond hopeless.

Harry led the way to Myrtle’s bathroom. “I’m… not sure how to open it…” Harry hedged. In truth, he had an idea, but if he revealed to Lockhart that he was a parselmouth, word would spread faster than what happened between him and Quirrell.

“There must be a way,” Lockhart said, his usual grin melting into a frown, playing with the tap.

“We came all this way and Potter doesn’t even know how the Chamber opens?” Draco complained. “I’m going back to my dorm. Come on Theo.” Draco started out of the bathroom and Theo followed him. 

“Wait!” Lockhart called, chasing them out of the bathroom. 

Harry took the opportunity to stare at the snake etched into the handle. “Open,” he said, and the sink started shifting. “Wait!” he called. “Lockhart! Someone!”

“Expelliarmus!” came Lockhart’s voice, for the first time the voice sounded… different. Hard. Caught off guard, Harry’s wand flew out of his hand.

Lockhart came in, both Draco’s and Theo’s wands in his off-hand. “No sudden movements,” Lockhart said. He walked slowly over to where Harry’s wand landed, keeping all three of them, unarmed, in sight. He picked up Harry’s wand and pocketed all three. “Okay, you three are going to go down into the Chamber,” Lockhart said. None of them moved. Lockhart sent sparks towards them and they jumped. Harry gulped and nodded at Draco.

Summoning up his Gryffindor bravery, Harry jumped into the dark opening.

* * *

“Don’t you dare, Harry!” Hermione yelled at his retreating form. Either he didn’t hear her or he was ignoring her. Hermione focused on Ginny, trying to make sense of what the girl was saying in between choking sobs. “Ginny. Ginny. Take a deep breath. Deep breath. Good,” she soothed. Ginny tried to listen, but she was struggling with it. Hermione summoned patience; she itched to run after her brother but she needed to know more. And further, she couldn’t just abandon Ginny like this. “Another breath. Shh. Ginny. Ginny, listen to me. I need you to tell me. Is the Diary you mentioned how the Chamber is being opened?”

Ginny nodded between shuddering breaths, her eyes stricken. “I found… I found it. And… it was blank. But when I’d write… he’d write back. He was my friend. I thought… but then… I lost time. I didn’t know what was happening.”

“Okay. Okay,” Hermione tried to keep the younger girl calm. “And you said Ron has it now?”

“Y-yes, I think.”

“Okay. Try to stay calm,” Hermione encouraged her. Looking around the room, she spotted another bright red head. “Percy!” she called out.

“Hermione?” Percy asked, coming towards the girls. Then he caught sight of his sister. “Oh, Merlin, Ginny? What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I don’t have time to explain. You need to take care of your sister, and I need to go!”

Percy quickly wrapped an arm around Ginny, and the girl burrowed into her brother’s side for comfort. “Go where? Hermione? Hermione!” But she was already moving away, focused on what she needed to do.

She dashed towards the stairs to the boys’ dorms, where Harry had left his bag. She ran up the stairs, burst into the fourth-year room and bee-lined for Harry’s trunk. Thankful that the room was empty, she rummaged through his bag until she found his Invisibility cloak and stuffed it into her ever-present book bag. She shoved Harry’s bag into the trunk and then let the door slam behind her as she hurried to follow Harry.

“Hermione?” Neville’s voice came from behind her, sounding worried at her state.

“Harry just ran off into danger,” Hermione said. “I’m going after him!”

“Not alone, you’re not,” Neville insisted.

Giving him a grateful smile, Hermione nodded and together they ran down the stairs, through the common room and out the portrait hole.

“So what’s happening?” Neville asked as they ran for the nearest stairs.

Hermione gave a brief explanation of what she and Harry had put together about the Chamber, its entry location, their conversation with Myrtle and what Ginny revealed about the diary. Unfortunately, though there was an ominous looking opening in the wall behind the sinks, the bathroom itself was empty when they got there.

“Myrtle!” Hermione called out. “Myrtle, are you here?” 

The ghost peeked out of the far wall. “Are they gone? Is it safe?”

“Are who gone?” Neville asked.

“Harry was here. With two other boys and what I think was a teacher. Cheesy grin, silly-looking robes. Except that he disarmed the boys and made them go through the door,” Myrtle moaned. “I’m sure they’re dead, or as good as, if they went down there!”

“Professor Lockhart?” Hermione frowned. Who knew what kind of trouble Harry had found. She turned to Neville. “I’m still going after them. But I think we’re gonna have to be a bit sneaky.”

“How?” Neville asked. Hermione pulled the cloak out of her bag and, pulling Neville closer, shrouded them both in it. “Ooohhh,” he hummed. “Okay, quietly, then.”

* * *

The passageway was dark and dank. Hermione and Neville crept along under the cover of the cloak; unfortunately, that also meant they couldn’t light their way. It wasn’t completely dark - Hermione suspected some sort of bioluminescent fungus - but there were lots of shadows to hide in and the way was not exactly clear.

Suddenly, Hermione heard movement to her left. Neville raised his wand and shot off an  _ immobulus _ spell. Hermione cast a  _ lumos  _ and saw Lockhart, cowering in the corner. 

“Professor?”

“Miss Granger, thank Merlin you’re here. Mr. Potter, Mr. Nott, and Mr. Malfoy have been enchanted. They kidnapped me and brought me down here as a sacrifice to the thing that’s been petrifying students,” Lockhart stopped, shaking. “I caught a glimpse… it’s a basilisk.”

Hermione caught a glimpse of three wands sticking out of Lockhart’s pocket and recognized them as Draco’s, Harry’s, and Theo’s. Without hesitating, Hermione decked him and grabbed the wands. “Stupefy!” she added for good measure. “Come on,” Hermione said to Neville. “They need our help.”

Neville regarded Lockhart with wide eyes for a moment, then gripped his wand tighter and nodded. She and Neville raced onwards until they heard shouting. “Hogwarts will always have help as long as people remember why it started!” she heard Harry yell. With a rush of air, she saw something fly past them at great speed.

“Was that…” Hermione started to ask.

“That was a phoenix,” Neville confirmed. “And it looked like it was carrying the sorting hat.”

They ran into a huge room just in time to see Harry withdrawing a giant sword. “Bloody hell,” Neville exclaimed. For once, Hermione agreed with Neville. Harry and the phoenix were facing down the basilisk, but the snake was much larger than the fifty feet all the books claimed. This basilisk had to be about 200 feet long. The phoenix was flying around the basilisk, using its claws and beak to gouge the snake’s eyes out. Hermione spotted Draco and Theo, who were gathering rubble to throw at the snake. “Draco, Theo, here,” Hermione hissed, handing them their wands. 

The boys startled a bit at her sudden appearance behind them, distracted as they’d been by watching out for the basilisk, but they gratefully took their wands. “Not that this will be much better,” Theo grumbled. “They’re resistant to most spells.”

“But probably not to these,” Hermione said, pulling out the first two cans of bear spray her father had gotten for them. “Push down on the top. Spray its eyes, if you can. I’ll explain what it is later, promise.”

Taking out another can for herself, Hermione kept her wand in hand as well as she slipped back under the invisibility cloak. She hoped it would help her get close enough to help Harry.

Harry, meanwhile, was talking to the tall, dark-haired boy in front of them. The boy was hissing and the basilisk suddenly shot forward, towards Harry.

“Here!” Hermione shouted, tossing Harry his wand. With the giant sword in one hand and a wand in the other, Harry stood tall. He looked  _ different _ . Like a knight or a hero in one of the fairy tale stories she used to read. Hermione suddenly understood how divination worked. Her brother looked every inch the warrior, no hint of the twelve-year-old boy she sometimes saw, especially when they were home. Hermione didn’t think anyone in their class looked like that. Harry took off with a nod to Hermione. Hermione shot the bear spray at the basilisk and a  _ shriek _ came from the snake; it stopped in its tracks, the capsaicin-heavy spray embedding in the snake’s open wounds from it’s ruined eyes. Draco and Theo followed suit, despite the dark-haired boy’s objections.

Two spells shot out from the side at the same moment, Draco and Theo calling out a freezing spell. They weren’t sure how well it would work, but they hoped the cold would at least slow the monster down.

The basilisk floundered while the boy who’d been directing the snake rushed forward, furious.  “WHAT DID YOU DO?” he roared as he placed two hands on the snake. 

“A bit of muggle magic, Tom,” Harry said, a hint of amusement in his voice as he stepped between Hermione and the pair. Tom. As in Tom Riddle. Hermione’s jaw dropped. But… How?

Tom hissed again and the snake reared up, headed straight for Hermione. “No!” Harry shouted. He flung himself in front of her, bringing up the sword. The sword went into the basilisk’s mouth and straight through the roof of its mouth. 

“NO!” Tom roared. Harry removed his hand and the sword and the basilisk keeled over. Dead. Hermione stared at the snake for a moment. “You’ll pay for this Potter. It won’t be long now before I get to full strength.” 

Hermione immediately put two and two together. The diary. They had to destroy the diary. Hermione opened her mouth to tell the others when Harry stumbled. He looked pale and sweaty, but maintained the determined look on his face. Hermione paled when she saw the broken fang sticking out of Harry’s arm. “Harry! No... Harry!” 

She took his weight and eased both of them onto the stone floor as Hermione took the tooth out carefully. “Sorry,” Harry said. “Didn’t mean to… sorry…” Harry’s eyes were glazed and his breathing was shallow. This couldn’t be happening. Not when they’d won. Not when he’d just become her brother. She couldn’t lose him now!

“The great Harry Potter, brought low by the basilisk,” Tom drawled. “At least my time will be well spent. I’m going to watch you die, Potter.”

Draco, Theo, and Neville all shot spells at Tom but they didn’t affect him. “The diary,” Hermione cried. “Get me the diary!” Both boys blinked at her, but Theo quickly responded and started looking around. Draco stood guard over his friends, still facing the not-quite-substantial Tom Riddle.

Neville had already been looking around for the book, knowing he couldn’t help Harry but he could help try to stop Tom from fully manifesting. He finally found it, off to one side where Ron’s form lay limp on the floor. 

“That diary won’t help you now,” Tom sneered at Hermione. “Did you love him? I could kill you next, so you could be together, mudblood.”

Harry couldn’t open his eyes. Hermione sobbed as Harry squeezed Hermione’s hand, unable to speak. The phoenix had come over and was crying too, all over Harry’s arm. Hermione choked on her tears and started coughing as she saw, shockingly, Harry’s wound closing. Harry blinked a few times and his breathing eased. He tried to sit up but Hermione stopped him.

Tom cursed. “Phoenix tears. I should have realized. Ah well, I’ll still kill you all when we duel.”

“Not in this lifetime,” Hermione shouted, as Neville rushed to her side with the book. She grabbed the basilisk fang and jammed it into the diary. Ink spurted out in whole rivers, thick and black and noxious. 

“No!” Tom shouted one last time, reaching towards the ruined book as he faded from existence.

“Guess Hermione was right,” Harry said, coughing a bit. “Stronger together, eh?” Everyone smiled.

Ron suddenly stirred, causing Draco and Theo to take several steps backwards.

“Go,” Hermione hissed at them. “We’ll meet in the Library as soon as we can. Take Lockhart with you and tell Snape everything.”

Draco and Theo simply nodded. The phoenix landed on Draco’s shoulder and chirped. “Weird bird…” Draco murmured. They walked out. 

Hermione carefully went over to Ron, who was still trying to wake up, while Neville watched over Harry. Ron was blinking, eyes still unfocused. 

“Ron?” Hermione asked tentatively. “Ron are you okay?”

Ron jerked away, his eyes focussing and then hardening.

“Why would you care?” Ron asked.

“Because at one time we were friends,” Hermione answered honestly.

“Right, until you stole Harry.”

Hermione sighed heavily. “Obviously, you feel fine, because otherwise you wouldn’t be continuing this inane argument. Can you stand up or do you need a hand?”

Ron sat up slowly and grudgingly took her offered hand. He immediately let go the second he could, even though he stumbled a little. Neville, meanwhile, had helped Harry up and was supporting part of his weight. He looked all right, just tired. Hermione supposed that even if he’d been cured, coming back from almost dying was probably rather exhausting.

Hermione and Neville exchanged a glance, noting on the way back that Lockhart was no longer in the passage. They hoped Draco and Theo had taken him; if he’d woken up and escaped on his own, somehow, dealing with the teachers could get tricky.

The phoenix was waiting for them at the entrance to the chamber, indicating Hermione should grab his long tail. Hermione hesitated, then did what the phoenix was clearly asking. After Hermione, Harry caught hold as well. They made sure to grab each others wrists, which was a more secure hold. After Harry was Neville, and then Ron came last. 

Once they were connected securely, the phoenix flew upwards. It was rather incredible that the small bird could hold all their weight. In no time at all, they were back in Myrtle’s bathroom. With a hiss from Harry, the sink closed again. 

Moments later, McGonagall came rushing into the bathroom. “Oh, thank Merlin!” she exclaimed in a rather unusual moment of emotion. The only one startled by it was Ron, of course.

“I’m so glad you’re here, Professor,” Hermione said with a tired smile. “Harry and Ron probably should be looked over by Madam Pomfrey.”

“And yourself and Mr. Longbottom?” McGonagall inquired.

“Tired but fine,” Neville spoke up.

“Let’s get you all to the Hospital Wing,” McGonagall declared. “We will talk afterwards.”

The students all nodded. When McGonagall realized that Hermione was supporting most of Harry’s weight as they walked, she discreetly cast a feather-light charm on the boy. Neville wasn’t struggling so much with Ron, so she let it be. Minerva was beyond aware of the fact that any attempt to separate Hermione from her brother at the moment was doomed to failure.

Poppy flew into action the second they entered the hospital wing, first assessing Ron and giving him several potions, then coming over to Harry. “Good heavens!” Poppy exclaimed, running her wand over Harry’s arm twice. “What happened?”

“What’s wrong?” McGonagall asked.

“There’s some sort of dark energy here…” Madam Pomfrey said.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, then glanced at the still-bloody sword of Gryffindor that was sitting on the next bed. “I got nicked when I rammed the sword through the basilisk’s mouth,” Harry admitted.

Hermione hit Harry upside the head. “A fang broke off and pierced him deep. Probably to the bone. He was dying and this phoenix who was helping us came over and cried on his arm…” McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey stared. Neither quite knew what to say. So Hermione prodded them a bit. “Can you do something about the lingering dark energy? Will the venom cause him problems later, or has the phoenix taken care of all that?”

Startled back into motion, Madam Pomfrey nodded quickly. “The phoenix tears will have healed any damage, including the venom. Let me see what we can do about the remainder. And if nothing else, I’m keeping him here overnight to be certain he sleeps!”

“Can you release him for a while so we can hear what happened?” McGonagall asked.

Madam Pomfrey nodded, but didn’t look happy about it. “I suppose, given the circumstances, that would be necessary. Mr. Weasley’s parents are in the Headmaster’s office. They probably also want to thank him.”

“Harry, are you up for telling everyone what happened?” Hermione asked. Harry nodded, getting up from the bed slowly. 

“I should get back to work. The treatment for the petrified students is almost ready and I have to prepare everything,” Madam Pomfrey said.

“Of course,” McGonagall acknowledged. 

Hermione noticed, as they walked towards the Headmaster’s office, Harry wasn’t leaning on her as much. 

They arrived at a large gargoyle. “Sherbert lemon,” McGonagall said. The gargoyle came to life, and stepped aside, revealing a staircase. The three of them went up the stairs to a small sitting room and McGonagall knocked before entering the office.

Hermione suddenly felt nervous when she saw who was in the room. On one side sat Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. On the other side, Snape was holding Lockhart by the collar, looking furious. Draco and Theo were nowhere in sight, but a man who looked a tiny bit like Draco, but with very long blonde hair, was standing in the center looking important. 

“As I was saying, Lucius, it is my understanding that the threat has been eliminated. The students responsible have just arrived,” Dumbledore was saying to the man.

“Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,” McGonagall said. “Madame Pomfrey has Ron in the hospital wing. He’s going to be okay.” Mrs. Weasley burst into relieved sobs while Mr. Weasley embraced his wife to comfort her. “You can visit him in a little while if you’d like.”

“First I’m sure they’d like to hear the events that transpired tonight,” Dumbledore said.

Harry and Hermione launched into the story, framing it as much as possible as if they’d acted alone as well as that they’d done all the research and told no one. Harry described going for help when they told him Ron had been taken, but only finding Lockhart. He then walked them through running into Draco and Theo and Lockhart disarming them, then going into the Chamber of Secrets and fighting the basilisk and Tom. Hermione added her part about Neville joining her after she talked to Ginny, and how they surprised Lockhart and retrieved the others’ wands.

As Harry was finishing his description of the battle, Hermione noticed Lockhart’s wrists were bound in front of him. “Mr. Lockhart revealed that his plan was to allow you to defeat the basilisk, then obliviate you and take credit for it,” Snape revealed. Hermione paled. “It appears that this is what happened before each book. He found someone who defeated a magical creature, let them tell him about it, then he obliviated them and he took credit.”

Harry looked extremely upset at this reveal, but said nothing. Hermione glanced at Harry, realizing how exhausted he looked. “Harry defeated the basilisk with this, Albus,” McGonagall said, pride clear in her voice. She put the sword on Dumbledore’s desk where they all could see the inscription. ‘Godric Gryffindor’ was written straight down the center. A huge ruby was at the hilt. Hermione gasped. “The sword of Godric Gryffindor,” McGonagall confirmed.

Mr. Weasley spoke to Harry and Hermione very softly. Mrs. Weasley was clearly still too choked up. “Thank you,” he said. “I know Ronald hasn’t been the kindest to you in the last year, but you don’t know what he means to us. Our family owes both of you life debts…” Neither Harry nor Hermione quite knew what that meant, but they were too tired to be concerned about it at the moment.

Malfoy snorted. “If the threat is truly eliminated, I suppose I must go and inform the other governors. Severus, please inform my son that the next time he encounters Potter going on one of his life-threatening adventures, not to join him.”

Hermione got the sinking feeling that even though they’d tried to limit what they said about Draco and Theo’s involvement, making it seem like they stayed back and didn’t fight the basilisk, trying to make it sound like they’d been forced into the situation by Lockhart, they got their two Slytherin friends into trouble. She tried not to think about it too much know, knowing they’d have to apologize later as best they could. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too bad. Lockhart did have them unarmed and at wand-point after all.

Malfoy walked out of the room. “Both of you and Neville showed outstanding courage today,” Dumbledore said. “Special Awards will be give to you, and 200 points will be awarded to Gryffindor.” Hermione glanced at Snape who nodded slightly once. Draco and Theo would be rewarded as well. “Now, Professor, the Ministry will be arriving soon to deal with Gilderoy. Would you like to escort Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys down to the hospital wing?”

They all walked down in silence, all dealing with their own issues. Finally Mr. Weasley said. “I know it’s not the time for this, Harry, but if you're interested in staying over this summer…”

“I’ll think about it, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said, knowing that it wouldn’t come to anything. They were going to France this summer and Harry couldn’t wait to get a break from England.

“If we met up in Diagon Alley for shopping again,” Hermione ventured quietly, “would I maybe be welcome too? We could stay over for a week or two before school starts?”

“Of course, Hermione,” Mrs. Weasley agreed. “The more, the merrier.”

Hermione wasn’t actually sure they’d end up making those plans, especially given Ron’s recent behavior, but she wanted to give an alternative option as she knew Harry had no intention of missing their trip to France.

They arrived at the Hospital Wing just moments later. McGonagall showed the Weasleys over to where Ron lay, Neville still sitting at his side, while Madame Pomfrey ushered Harry into a bed, several beds down. The curtains that Madam Pomfrey put up included two beds, and not just one. Obviously McGonagall informed Madam Pomfrey that Hermione wouldn’t be leaving Harry alone in the hospital wing.

“I suppose I should give you a quick checkup too, Miss Granger,” the Hospital Matron said primly, “since you were also involved in the mess with the Chamber.”

Hermione nodded her acceptance and allowed herself to be directed to the bed beside Harry’s. The Matron ran her wand over Hermione a few times, but the results all came up clear. “You just need a good night’s sleep, Miss Granger. Would either of you like Dreamless Sleep? After what I’ve heard, well, I wouldn’t blame you in the least.”

“Yes, please, Madam Pomfrey,” Hermione said before Harry could refuse. The last thing either of them needed would be nightmares in the middle of the hospital. New nightmares or old ones.

Madam Pomfrey bustled off and returned with two vials. “Get yourselves dressed for bed, lie down, and then drink them,” she instructed.

As soon as she was gone and the curtain pulled around them, Hermione jumped off her bed and pushed it over so the two beds were side by side. She and Harry took turns using the hospital’s bathroom to change and get ready for bed, and then lay down as close to each other as possible.

“Hermione…” Harry began.

“Don’t.” She shook her head. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow, with the rest of the AA group. For tonight… I’m just glad you’re still with me.”

“Thank you for coming after me,” Harry whispered. “And I’m sorry.”

“I know,” she replied with a smile. 

Both of them took their doses of dreamless sleep and Hermione curled up in the bed, fingers twined together with Harry’s. Grateful that Harry was still alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're all still alive. Whew! 
> 
> Just one more chapter left of this story! But we are about ten chapters in to PoA, so hopefully the wait for the next story won't be too long!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wrapping up the first book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As we begin the final chapter of this particular story, we would definitely like to thank all our faithful readers. Your comments, support and feedback mean the world to us. If not for you, there would be fewer posted stories!

Stronger together.

* * *

** Chapter 12 **

Harry woke up feeling a bit of dread, among a multitude of other emotions. He’d ran and gotten an professor, been dragged into danger, and been forced to face a 200 foot long basilisk. He’d nearly died, except for a chance encounter with a phoenix. Would his Mum and Dad be angry with him for doing so? Would he be grounded, or worse? He knew they’d be angry he’d risked his life again, even though he’d been forced into it. He gazed guiltily at Hermione, still asleep next to him. Her deepest fear had nearly come true. He’d almost died in her arms and it was all his fault. He had to make it up to her, but wasn’t completely sure how. 

Madam Pomfrey came by and checked Harry over. “Phoenix tears are miraculous things, Mr. Potter,” she said quietly. “You’re nearly back to a hundred percent.”

Harry wanted to ask about Ron, but wasn’t completely sure how. “Can I leave in time for breakfast?” Harry asked finally. It was a Saturday and the AA had planned to meet to study. 

Hermione started to stir at the noise. “I suppose,” Madam Pomfrey conceded hesitantly, sounding like she wanted to make Harry stay. “But you are  _ not _ to go flying or any other of your foolish life-endangering activities today. One encounter with death is enough for most in one lifetime, and yet you seem to enjoy playing with it.” 

“I don’t mean to,” Harry said softly. “I’m sorry.”

Madam Pomfrey harrumphed but nodded acceptance. She left, presumably to check on the petrified students. Harry assumed they were going to have the potion administered that morning. Hermione, meanwhile, shifted and started to blink, her eyes slowly gaining focus and losing the tension around then as they adjusted to the light. 

“Harry?” Hermione murmured as she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

“I’m here, Mia,” he answered in a low voice.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Hermione pulled her brother in close and hugged him tightly. Harry was at a loss for a moment, but then hugged her back. Hermione then drew back and punched him on the shoulder.

“Ow! Mia!” Harry complained. 

“That’s for risking your life unnecessarily,” Hermione countered.

“Mia, Lockhart had Malfoy, Nott, and I at wandpoint. He basically shoved us into the Chamber to face the basilisk without wands. When I left you, I went looking for a teacher, I swear. I didn’t know Lockhart was… a fraud.”

Hermione huffed. “Well, I suppose I can’t blame you for trying to trust a teacher,” she admitted. “Even if we’d all been wondering about Lockhart for a while, I never thought he was obliviating people and stealing their stories.”

“Are we gonna end up grounded again?” Harry asked with a small frown.

Hermione considered the question for a moment. “Probably not. We went for authority figures. Mum will probably say it’s not our responsibility to figure out which teachers to trust and which not to. Plus the fact that the way we found out was almost accidental,  _ and _ the fact that we used all our resources - including the bear spray Dad bought us - I think we’re likely in for a mild scolding and a lot of worried hugs, but I don’t think we’ll actually be in trouble.”

Harry relaxed and nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. I mean, I’d accept being grounded if that’s what they decide, but I rather hope it doesn’t.”

“Yeah, I understand,” Hermione answered. “Did I hear Madame Pomfrey say you could go to breakfast?” she asked, changing the subject.

Harry and Hermione went to breakfast, then went to classes. The other students might have stared and whispered slightly more than usual, but for the most part, they had a normal day. Dumbledore was rumored to have taken over Lockhart’s classes, but they didn’t have Defense that day, so they didn’t know.

No one was surprised when McGonagall and Snape showed up to their AA study session later that afternoon. Harry confessed silently to himself that he was still feeling the effects of nearly dying and coming back because he felt so tired. Just about everyone was there, so Harry felt compelled to stay. He knew that they weren’t going to study for final exams that afternoon but instead their friends were going to want to know the whole story. So instead of studying they discussed the previous night’s events.

Harry felt extremely guilty as Draco, Theo, Neville, and Hermione all detailed out how terrified they’d been when they realized that Harry was going to risk his life. “Ron doesn’t even  _ like _ you,” Draco pointed out.

“I can’t explain why,” Harry said shrugging.

“It’s not the same thing, you know,” Blaise said, considering Harry. “What’s happening to Ron isn’t the same as how you or Hermione were bullied in muggle school. You kept to yourself and people targeted you. Do you understand that Ron is bullying you?”

“Of course we do,” Hermione said, shaking her head. “But last night was about more than just Ron. No matter who it had been, we couldn’t let a student be sacrificed so Voldemort could return to life. And even if it had been about Ron… well, he’s a git, but the rest of his family would be the ones to suffer for losing him. And we do still like  _ them. _ ”

“Bloody Gryffindors,” Marcus muttered.

Harry was quiet. He  _ hadn’t _ truly thought that he had been bullied by Ron, or at least it hadn’t mattered. Hermione was the one being targeted, even if Harry bore the brunt of Ron’s anger. Harry was still unused to having his feelings considered. Harry filed the information away for later. He needed to think about it.

“What’s on your mind Harry?” Neville asked.

Harry sighed. Nothing ever got by the AA. “I just… never considered Ron was bullying me too, I guess. His diatribe was always directed towards Hermione, even though he always yelled at me about it.”

Hermione frowned, scolding herself internally for missing part of Harry’s reaction to Ron. She understood they were both being bullied, Harry by Ron’s attention and herself because of what he was saying and his behaviour towards her. She hadn’t realized Harry didn’t see it the same way. When he had been bullied in the past, he was the one who most often got into trouble if he complained, so he learned not to say anything and just take it. Additionally, Harry had never had anyone to protect before, so obviously he only thought about Hermione’s feelings and not his own. He was so good at putting himself last that even she didn’t always catch him at it.

“Don’t beat yourself up, Hermione,” Luna murmured, appearing at Hermione’s elbow. “You can’t see everything about everyone, and you’ve been busy being here for everyone too. Plus all your research. It’s not your fault.”

“But… he’s Harry,” Hermione responded in an undertone as the boys continued to discuss Harry’s feelings about the matter.

“And I’m sure he’ll be the first to forgive you for missing one small detail,” Luna replied calmly.

But Hermione was still upset with herself. She couldn’t hold back the tears as all the emotions of the night before came crashing back over her and caused her to curl in on herself, breaking down. Deep, wrenching sobs wracked her small frame, and Luna made a small sound of distress as she tried to comfort her friend.

The boys all froze as their attention focused on the weeping girl at one end of the table in the room. None of them were overly comfortable with tears, let alone a crying girl. To everyone’s surprise, Snape made the first move; he picked Hermione up and moved to a larger armchair in one corner of the room, settling with her next to him. Harry stared, his eyes wide at the uncharacteristic move from Snape.

McGonagall quietly cast a muffling charm around the armchair and turned back to the boys. “Let her cry it out. She’ll talk to you when she’s ready.” The boys all nodded and Luna drifted back to her place at the table.

Hermione was only generally aware of the warm arm around her and the soothing rumble of words she couldn’t make out. She just clung to Snape’s robes as she cried her grief and terror into his shoulder. He made no attempt to stop her, never once told her to hush. He just rocked her gently, in much the same way he had as a young boy, comforting his only friend while she cried after fighting with her sister. It wasn’t the first time Hermione and Lily had seemed similar to Snape, but he was happy for once that his past friendship had prepared him for dealing with the present.

When her sobs quieted to the occasional sniffle, Snape handed over a soft cotton handkerchief. Hermione wiped her eyes and blew her nose, pulling back from her professor with an embarrassed flush. “Thank you, Professor. And... I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” he told her in his gentlest tone. “Everyone has limits, Hermione, and you simply reached yours. There’s no shame in that, nor should you be sorry for needing a few minutes of the comfort you’ve been providing others the entire year.” He waved his wand over the soiled handkerchief when she held it back out to him, cleaning it instantly, but he gestured for her to hold onto it. “You may want that a while longer. Your friends are quite likely all concerned about you, and you will need to talk to them in much the same way they have shared with you.”

“You’re right, sir. Thank you,” Hermione said quietly. She leaned into his warm strength for a moment longer, somehow not as surprised as she should be by how comforting he could be, then gathered herself and slid off his lap. Harry gave her a look of concern, then went back to listening to Neville. Hermione waited for a break in the conversation to return to the table.

“All we’re saying is that you have a habit of putting everyone else first,” Marcus pointed out. “You’re not worth less than us.”

“Sometimes you need to put yourself first,” Draco added. “It’s not selfish, and it’s not wrong.”

“And sometimes there’s a better way to handle a situation than to charge in shooting spells,” Adella finished. “We’re not saying you did anything wrong, necessarily, and you did definitely get the job done. But you need to temper your instincts with a little wisdom and logic, which will come over time.”

“On the other hand, you’ve made great progress in accepting help,” Cedric spoke up. The AA had been his first stop after being given the mandragora potion. Everyone had been happy to see him and he’d been shocked to learn what happened both before and after his encounter with the basilisk. “You called for help from everyone, though some of us couldn’t get away to respond. You went looking for a professor to help, rather than going in alone.”

“Might’ve been better off alone than with Lockhart,” Harry grumbled.

“But that isn’t your fault, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said. “I do plan to have words with Albus about hiring him as a teacher to begin with. Unfortunately, I was not able to check the coin without him seeing it, so we were unaware things were happening so quickly.”

As everyone let their words sink in, Cedric noticed Hermione had moved closer and was listening quietly. “Are you all right, Hermione?” he asked.

“Yes,” Hermione answered, moving to re-take her place at the table. “I didn’t mean to worry all of you.”

Blaise waved off the comment. “We all understand,” he replied. “We’ve all been there at least once in this group.”

“Want to talk about it?” Theo offered.

“Not really, but I know I should.” Hermione took a deep breath and looked around the table. None of the people in this room had ever judged each other for their feelings and reactions, and she knew it was safe to tell them.

“I know… I know we should all be proud of what we accomplished last night,” Hermione began. “We protected each other, our fellow students, and prevented Tom Riddle’s attempted self-resurrection. And I’m sure I will feel that way once I process everything else.

“But…” she paused, gathering her thoughts. “All I can think about right now is how Harry nearly died in my arms. How Lockhart betrayed us all and forced you three into danger. All I can remember is the terror and the grief of a two-hundred foot basilisk trying to kill my friends, a ghost threatening us all, and my… my b-brother bleeding and slowly dying of basilisk venom while all I could do was sit there and hold him.” She dabbed at her eyes with the handkerchief as she started to tear up again, glad that Snape had suggested she hold onto it.

“Hermione, you did everything you could possibly have done,” Theo said into the quiet room. “You came after us, with Neville, took Lockhart by surprise and got us all our wands back. You gave us the means to defend ourselves, though I still really want to know what those cans are,” he added in an aside.

“You probably saved us all,” Draco said solemnly. “And we heard that when you had to tell the story to Dumbledore and… and my father… that you did everything you could to leave Theo and I out as much as possible. Our fathers won’t likely be happy we were involved, but at least we can claim coercion by Lockhart. Held at wandpoint by a professor should keep us out of the line of fire for the most part. Self-preservation is supposed to be a Slytherin trait; they’d prefer if we were never  _ in _ a position to be caught like that, but Lockhart had the entire Wizarding world fooled so I think we’ll be all right.”

Hermione nodded acceptance. “I know. I do know that. But… but my own greatest fear… is failing the people I care about. Of having to watch them die and not be able to do anything about it. If I’d put the pieces together a little faster, gotten there a little bit sooner…”

“You can’t blame yourself for that, Hermione,” Harry said with a frown. “We figured it out together, at the same time. And then I… I ran off. But you came after me, with more help and extra supplies.”

“And you still nearly died on me,” Hermione sniffed.

“The truth is,” Snape’s voice washed over all of them, “that you are children, caught up in the first stages of a war that by rights you should not have to be involved in. But because the Dark Lord  _ is _ targeting Harry, it is likely that there will continue to be attacks, either in school or outside of it. There is likely no avoiding it, only trying to prepare for it.”

“Then we prepare for it,” Marcus said calmly. “We help each other. And we stand together.”

“And any one of us here will be a shoulder to cry on,” Adella added. “For whomever needs it at the time. This is probably going to stress all of us out. It’s not a weakness to cry sometimes.”

“The war is coming and most of us were already involved, Hermione,” Draco said. “I, for one, am glad I have a choice. I wouldn’t have otherwise. I would have been forced to become a Death Eater. Most of us would have. Most of us would be blindly following an ignorant half-blood just so our fathers would stop beating us.”

“I’d still be hanging on every word Ron said, rather than carving my own path,” Harry said. “I’m not hiding anymore, because of you.” Harry smiled, looking at his sister.

“You know,” Blaise said slowly. “We should start writing some of this down. Because someday someone’s going to want to want to hear this story.”

“A lot of it is in my journal,” Hermione said thoughtfully. “But a more collaborative version, with everyone’s input and a more objective point of view wouldn’t be a bad idea…”

“We could leave it in this room, with the rest of our books,” Neville suggested. “Charm it so it’s not obvious that it’s different.”

“By the way,” Theo said. “Has anyone noticed the points this morning? Gryffindor climbed quite a bit.”

“Only at Hogwarts can you get 5 points for answering a teacher’s question correctly, 60 points for facing You-Know-Who, and 200 points for facing a 200-foot-long basilisk,” Harry joked.

Everyone grew serious. “It was 200 feet?” Marcus asked. “But basilisks are only supposed to be fifty feet.”

They looked at Snape. “I believe the record is 60 feet,” he said. “Mr. Potter, if you’d be so kind to escort me one night, I’d like to investigate, as well as pilfer the corpse for potions ingredients.”

“Yes, sir,” Harry responded with a quick nod.

“Can I come too, please?” Luna piped up. “They say the Chamber was built by Salazar Slytherin himself. It would be terribly interesting to see it for myself.”

Snape considered his answer. “I would prefer to limit participation until we can insure everyone’s safety,” he said softly. “Perhaps next term, Miss Lovegood, if we can assess the chamber properly over the summer.”

“I understand, sir,” Luna replied. “I can wait.”

“So what’s everyone doing over summer hols now that the mystery is solved?” Theo asked. 

“Hermione and I are going to France for at least part of the summer,” Harry said. 

“I am too, though likely not the same parts,” Draco winked. “Father said something about becoming a cultured gentlewizard worthy to be a Malfoy.”

“Staying home, like always,” Luna said. Everyone looked at her sharply. “But I promise I’ll owl Hermione if Daddy leaves me alone.”

“I think my father said something about Switzerland,” Theo put in. “Investments or somesuch.”

Adella made a face. “Likely more ‘etiquette classes’ for me. Marcus’s mum inflicts them on me, mostly for existing. But I will be spending part of the summer with my grandparents, which should be a nice get-away.”

“I wish I could go with you, Del,” Marcus said wistfully. “I’m also visiting grandparents, but the Pureblood ones on Mum’s side.”

“Melody?” Hermione asked, naturally slipping into her moderator role. “What about you?”

Melody beamed. “Well, I turned seventeen this year, so I’m of-age. And, well, I got a job at the Leaky Cauldron. Tom needed a housekeeper for the summer, so I’m pretty much apparating straight there.”

“Won’t your Dad realize you’re gone?” Draco asked. 

“Winks, our house elf will, but Dad still works so much he’s never home enough,” Melody said. 

“Congratulations,” Theo said genuinely, and everyone echoed the sentiment. 

“I’ll be working a couple days a week at the Ministry with my Dad.” Cedric shrugged. “I’m hoping to get some Quidditch time in, though, too.”

“Going to the family villa in Italy,” Blaise said on his turn. “Nothing much interesting down there, though. Maybe hit up a few museums again.”

Eventually, they ended the meeting and went back to studying, everyone helping each other. The afternoon passed that way, all of them simply happy that everyone had survived. Going to dinner (in separate groups, of course), they were surprised to see a feast laid out. Fairly quickly, everyone figured out that it was to celebrate the fact that safety had been restored to the school. 

“Did you really-” Fred started in a low voice. 

“-fight a basilisk?” George finished. Most people didn’t know about the basilisk, but clearly it had spread to the Quidditch team. Harry quietly noted neither Ginny nor Ron were at the feast. 

“I heard it was a hundred feet long,” Oliver said. 

“The largest recorded basilisk was only sixty feet long,” Hermione recited primly. “None has ever been reported to be a hundred feet.”

“Besides, how would a hundred-foot basilisk get around the castle unseen?” Neville added, obviously backing up their attempt at distraction.

“Could a couple of second year students defeat a hundred foot basilisk anyway?” Harry asked. “They’re notoriously resistant to spells, much like dragons are.”

Their questions and comments seemed to put enough doubt into people’s minds that they turned to speculating what might have really happened. Which, no doubt, was how the hundred-foot basilisk story got started to begin with, Harry supposed.

“I heard it was an acromantula, actually,” said a Gryffindor seventh year. 

“How would a acromantula stun people?” her friend asked. 

“How would a basilisk?” The girl countered.

“Pretty sure that was petrification and not just stunning,” someone else chimed in.

The Weasley twins noticed that Harry and Hermione stopped talking and focused on their food while everyone else tried to figure things out. They figured they would try asking again later, when they could talk privately. Sibling pair to sibling pair. After all, their brother and sister were involved somehow too.

Dumbledore announced halfway through dinner that due to the recent events of the Chamber of Secrets being opened and then closed for good, final exams were cancelled. Harry and Hermione tried to be disappointed, but they both acknowledged that they’d filled their quota for emotional stress for the year and they didn’t want more.

The party lasted late, eventually going to the common rooms. Harry and Hermione pulled themselves away as soon as seemed reasonable and tucked themselves into a corner. The Weasley twins found them not long after. 

“So,” Fred said slowly. “What really happened last night?”

“You never came to bed,” George noted. “We stayed up pretty late because we were worried.”

“I mean, Ginny practically had a breakdown all over Percy. He finally took her to the hospital wing for some calming potion.” Fred added. They weren’t speaking in twin-speak, the worry evident in their faces. 

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance, and then nodded.

“Not here,” Hermione said in a low voice.

“Come up to our room, then,” Fred said. “Lee and Ken are down here still anyway.”

“Okay,” Hermione agreed, knowing the three shared a room still.

The twins slipped up the dorm steps first, while Harry and Hermione slowly made their way in that direction. They caught Neville’s eye as someone else was looking for them, and he distracted the fellow so they could follow the Weasleys.

When they were all safely in the fourth year dorm, the doorway warded against any possible eavesdroppers, George sat down on his bed and said, “Start at the beginning, please.”

“Well, you know we started researching early on,” Hermione began. “We began to suspect a basilisk after a while, and we shared our theories with Professor McGonagall. Unfortunately, there was no way to prove it and despite the threats, no one knew where the Chamber of Secrets was.”

“We talked to Hagrid and, even though he was expelled and blamed the last time the Chamber was opened, we know he didn’t cause it,” Harry said. “He was messing around with acromantulas, but they can’t petrify people. But he told us who pointed the finger at him, and we started to wonder how that person was involved.”

“Who was it?” Fred interrupted.

“Tom Riddle. The boy who eventually became known as Voldemort,” Harry said flatly.

“We made the correlation that Riddle being in school, the last time the Chamber was opened, and the last time there was another parselmouth in Hogwarts was all around the same time,” Hermione continued. They went on to explain their theories, more research, and talking to Moaning Myrtle.

They then went over finding out about Tom Riddle’s diary and how first Ginny then Ron had used it. Ginny’s panic when she heard about the attack after seeing Ron with the diary, and how Hermione had to coax answers out of her while Harry went ahead to try to locate help from the teachers.

Lockhart’s betrayal actually took the twins by surprise; they’d known he was incompetent, but they didn’t think he was a total fraud. Or that he’d threaten students to get himself another story.

“So it really was a basilisk. And you said it was huge,” George said when they finally finished, ending up in the Hospital Wing.

“How huge is huge?” Fred asked.

“Um…” Harry stuttered for a moment. “Well, probably closer to two hundred feet.”

The twins pounced on Harry, hugging him tightly. “We’re glad you’re not dead.”

“And that you managed to save Ron, even though he’s been a git to you all year.”

“I don’t care if it was Draco Malfoy,” Harry grumbled. “I’d still have gone.” 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Harry has a ‘saving people’ thing,” she explained.

“And you have a ‘saving Harry’ thing,” Fred replied with a smirk.

“Every day,” Hermione whispered. “After what happened last night… I will have bad dreams for a while.”

George hugged Hermione tightly. “You come join us in here anytime you need to, Hermione.”

“Not that you haven’t been anyway,” Fred chuckled. “We notice, we just haven’t said anything because we don’t care. Ginny crawled in with one of us a few times at the start of the term.”

“If you want to go grab your nightwear, you could just stay here tonight,” Harry offered his sister, taking her hand. “I don’t think you’re the only one likely to have nightmares in the near future.”

“I can’t imagine what I’d do if Fred was dying in my arms,” George said. 

“If you’re anything like me?” Hermione looked straight at George, pain and grief in her dark eyes. “Have a horrible breakdown while your mind still scrambles to solve the problem. If only so that his death wasn’t in vain.”

“I felt so bad,” Harry said. “I could just lie there. I couldn’t comfort her. I couldn’t tell her it was okay or help her or hold her while she cried…”

“And I couldn’t do anything to save him,” Hermione whispered, tears gathering again. “I don’t know anything about antivenins yet, and I don’t even know if there  _ is _ a counter for basilisk venom. It’s supposed to be one of the deadliest in the world. If not for that phoenix, he would have died in my arms… and the fact that I wasn’t down there alone with him would have been the only reason I didn’t die too.”

“I’m alive,” Harry said. “I promise I’ll never do it again.”

Hermione sighed. “Harry, it was a chance thing. You’re right, going through the mouth was probably the easiest way to kill that thing. And time wasn’t on our side. I just… I get the feeling that we’re going to have closer calls.”

“And this one was already close enough,” Harry agreed. “Go get your things, big sis. George is right, you should stay with us if you need to. Lee won’t mind and Ken won’t care.”

Fred and George seemed to have a silent conversation between them. Hermione slipped out to gather her nightclothes and toothbrush, she brought Crookshanks with her when she returned. The kitten made the rounds, getting petted and attention in exchange for comforting purrs. While everyone was down at the party, the four of them ended up playing several rounds of exploding snap. It was nice hanging around the Weasley twins. They understood, and they very much could imagine how Harry and Hermione felt.

When the twins started winning handily due to their younger players starting to fall asleep, George picked up the cards while Fred shoved them towards Harry’s bed. “Go sleep,” Fred said fondly. “We’ll be here if you need anything.”

George conjured a second set of sheets for the bed, and the two of them curled up together. Harry was worried that Hermione would have nightmares, but it was him who had the nightmare. He woke up, shaking, the feel of the fang in his arm and the venom burning through his veins. The knowledge that he was going to die. Lying in Hermione’s arms, feeling her tears and unable to do anything to help her.

Aware of his motion, even in her sleep, Hermione pulled Harry closer until his head rested on her shoulder. Harry took a deep breath and tried to will himself calm. He was fine. Hermione was fine. They were alive and Voldemort wasn’t. Crookshanks mewed at him, then settled on Hermione’s chest and pressed against Harry, purring softly.

It felt like ages before Harry fell asleep again. Falling back into old habits, he distracted himself with a story about Mooey and Pafoo. Except now he had images, a face to go with one of the names. Eventually, he drifted off again.

Over the next few days, most professors changed their curriculum aimed towards fun subjects, except for Snape, of course. Harry actually found some comfort in it. No matter what, Snape  would always teach potions. Defense was, of course, cancelled, and the scandal that he was a fraud who’d performed memory-altering charms on people to take credit for their work had the entire Wizarding world shocked. The AA took advantage of the free period to congregate in their room, talking and idly working on any remaining assignments. Harry and Hermione finished reading through the Pureblood Etiquette books Theo had loaned them and had copious notes to review over the summer. They gave the books back to their friend with profuse thanks, and Theo’s cheeks pinked just a bit. Hermione still held herself back from hugging Theo, but her hand brushed his shoulder for just a moment and he didn’t pull away. It was progress.

In the meantime, Hermione and Harry wrote a letter to their parents together, giving them the bare basics of the resolution of the Chamber problem and more detail about Lockhart. They promised to explain more fully when they got home, though. And they enclosed a couple of Prophet articles about Lockhart and his fraudulent claims.

Jean wrote back that she expected a full report in due time, thank you, and that she’d known something was off about Lockhart from the first. Harry was dreading telling them how close to death he’d come. It wasn’t like he’d had a choice in the matter.

The day before they were supposed to leave, Ron approached Harry. “Thanks,” Ron said awkwardly. 

“Sure,” Harry said. 

Ron started to turn away then turned back. “So, we’re okay?”

Harry shook his head in disbelief. “No, Ron. Not until you apologize. To me  _ and _ to Hermione.”

Ron blushed. “She changed you, Harry. I’m not going to apologize for defending you… or at least the person you used to be.”

“She didn’t change me, Ron,” Harry replied evenly. “I changed me. I decided to be who I really am and that I want to be the best person I can be. That’s not Hermione’s fault. And if you can’t talk to us calmly about what makes you unhappy instead of lashing out, calling names, and hurting people, then I don’t see how we can be okay.”

Ron shook his head. “Don’t come running to me when you wake up one day and don’t recognize yourself,” he said angrily, then he walked off. 

Percy had apparently been listening in and came up to Harry, hand extended. Harry took it, mostly out of confusion. “I wanted to thank you, Harry,” Percy said.

“You’re… welcome?” Harry responded.

Percy looked down for a moment in shame that Harry didn’t understand. “I’ve spent most of my life wishing that my family wasn’t poor,” Percy explained. “That my parents could afford things that weren’t second hand, that we didn’t live at the Burrow. Besides, growing up like we did, it’s easy to want recognition. but meeting you and getting to know you… seeing how Ron has been acting this past year has made me realize that I have people who will always be there for me. And that’s more powerful than any amount of fame or money.”

Harry had known this fact for a very long time, so for a moment he just blinked at Percy. Then he slowly smiled. “If this trouble with Ron helped you to see that… then I’m glad at least something good came of it.”

“For whatever it’s worth, you and Hermione do have a friend in me,” Percy said. “And the twins, if I’m not mistaken. It’s been nice to see them growing up for a change, supporting you. I hope that Ron won’t keep you from visiting with us.”

Harry smiled. “Teach Hermione and I a good silencing charm, and I think we can handle Ron.”

Percy laughed and nodded. “Deal. It won’t hurt him to just shut him up once in a while.” His expression grew thoughtful.

“Don’t worry, we don’t actually want to hurt him,” Harry said, preempting brotherly concern. “We really just want him to leave us alone if he can’t find it in himself to accept us the way we are.”

Percy smiled a little, regarding him. “You’re pretty cool for a twelve-year-old,” he said.

“Perce, Penny’s outside for you,” Oliver said, coming up to them. 

“Shoot,” Percy said, straightening his hair.

“Last date of term then?” Oliver asked.

Percy nodded. “I’m trying to keep it from Mum though,” he said. “She was dating Dad at my age and since neither Bill nor Charlie are dating anyone, she’s getting desperate…” Percy said. “Thanks again, Harry. For everything.” He then scampered off towards the door.

Harry stared in Percy’s wake. “They started dating just before Halloween,” Oliver explained. 

“They started…” He shook himself. “Nope, I don’t want to know.” He made his way to the library, assuming he’d find Hermione there. She’d probably finished packing a week ago. Harry was packed too, but he’d only finished the day before.

Hermione and Neville were in the AA room, reading. Neville was reading books on exotic and rare plants while Hermione was reading a book on phoenixes. “Hey guys,” Harry said in greeting. “What’s up?”

“Nothing, really. Just enjoying the quiet,” Neville replied. “Though Hermione was editing our notes on this year’s events until a little while ago. I convinced her to take a break.”

“It’s just all so disorganized, everyone’s different views of what happened,” Hermione complained without looking up from her book.

“We have plenty of time to make sense of it,” Harry soothed her, grabbing a book for himself and sitting down beside her. “I expect it will be a few years before we can share the real story with the rest of the world.”

Slowly over the course of the afternoon, the AA members congregated in their private room. They had already spoken together about how they felt about returning home, so this afternoon was really just about time together. Taking comfort in the presence of the others. They all had coins in their pockets, and Hermione had altered the charms slightly so once the messages were read, the surface of the coin could be changed back to its neutral state. It was safer for their purebloods to just keep all possible messages hidden.

All too soon, the leaving feast was over and they were headed south on the Express, headed for home. Since, to the outside world he spent holidays with the Dursleys, he kept quiet about the plans his family had. He was glad to be going home after the year they’d had. He hoped something like  _ that _ never happened again. Even as he thought it, Harry couldn’t help but get the sinking feeling that it would happen again. War was coming and in war, no one came out unscathed.

 

End.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, we made it. _Chamber of Secrets_ is wrapped up.
> 
> Yes, of course we're working on PoA next. As we've said before, it's already in the works. But it may be a couple of weeks before we start posting. Hopefully it won't be too long of a wait!
> 
> Thank you again to everyone who has supported this idea. We write because it's great fun. We post because of readers like you!

**Author's Note:**

> Again, please look for updates on Mondays and Thursdays. No, we won't post spoilers in comments, but we do LOVE to hear from readers. So tell us what you think, your thoughts and reactions. We'd love to discuss them with you!


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